


Celestial Fix

by KrakenMo (goldenKnife)



Category: Dreaming of Sunshine - Silver Queen, Naruto
Genre: Cats are eldritch fluffballs-freeform, Crossover, Fanfic-ception five layers deep, Gelel - Freeform, Gen, Recursive fanfic, Sasuke has PTSD and it shows, Sasuke is not a Youkai but he's not normal either, Sealing, Sequel will be set in modern Konoha, Shikako is Miss Not Appearing in this Fic, Time Travel, Trolling, Uchiha Sasuke Gets a Hug, Warring States Period (Naruto)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:42:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 84,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24814768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenKnife/pseuds/KrakenMo
Summary: The inevitable result of having no teammates to ride herd on was that there is no one around to veto his bad ideas either. Sasuke cuts it closer than he should with Ichibi-Shukaku, hoping that a portal would open up with an exasperated Shikako on the other side at the last moment.No Dice.This isn’t Sasuke’s first brush with time travel, but everything is harder when you’re alone. The Stars are different, the way home is shut; to make a new one he must navigate the blood feud with the Senju, survive the Uchiha clan politics, and not drown in cat fur.The road to peace is paved with pain, healing, trolling, sewing, fish, babysitting and seals that don’t explode.Crossover between Compass of Your Soul by Umei no Mai, Dreaming of Sunshine by Silverqueen, and  A Conversation Overhead By a Prisoner Faking Unconsciousness by Slow Mercury.
Relationships: Senju Tobirama & Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Izuna & Uchiha Madara & Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Sasuke & Original Character(s), Uchiha Sasuke & Uchiha Clan
Comments: 354
Kudos: 940
Collections: Heliocentrism — a Dreaming of Sunshine recursive collection, Japanese Approved





	1. Dead Reckoning

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Conversation Overheard by a Captive Faking Unconsciousness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21684820) by [SlowMercury](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlowMercury/pseuds/SlowMercury). 
  * Inspired by [Dreaming of Sunshine](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/53648) by Silver Queen. 
  * Inspired by [Compass of thy Soul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27470710) by [Umei_no_Mai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umei_no_Mai/pseuds/Umei_no_Mai). 



> Sasuke wakes up far from home, and even the stars aren’t the ones he knows.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our protagonist finds himself reliving a bit of his personal history by arriving in a part of history he'd rather not be in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8/17/20 Minor grammar edits

  
Sasuke wakes with an internal curse to the seven luck gods. His head pounds like an oncoming migraine and wherever he is smells like rot and mold. Then he opens his eyes face to face with a desiccated head with its eyes burnt out and missing its teeth; from the state, several months decay at least. _Oh._ He pushes himself out of the half grave and tries to wretch quietly into the nearby bush. 

Once his stomach is empty, Sasuke casts his other senses around for any clue to where he is. The patch of forest around him is free of anything but small animals at the moment- the problem is that it should be summer in the Land of Water but this forest is clearly somewhere around Konoha, and in the middle of winter. 

Under the fallen leaves and needles, there are old signs of a skirmish: scorches left by fire jutsu on some of the tree trunks and displaced mud of earth techniques that have been softened by autumn’s rain. On closer examination the pattern is probably a retreat by the fire users. There is also a thick stand of maple saplings all growing together into a deadly cage before putting off shoots in a more natural pattern on the far side of the clearing. 

Sasuke’s bad feelings redouble.

He turns back to the grave where he awoke, tugging the folded collar of his shirt up over his mouth and nose like Kakashi-sensei. It's a mild guard against the lingering smell as he uses a chakra trick to skid the loose dirt aside and examine the body more closely. The indigo of the Uchiha Clan coat is unmistakable, even stained with mud and rot. Under the coat are the remains of sturdy mission clothes and armor plates, but it’s all wrong in a familiar way. Pre-Konoha designs, he notes and wants to scream at the universe. _Not! Again!_

_“You’ll join your ancestors in their graves!” was supposed to be a vague and melodramatic threat, not something the lunatic seal-maker could actually_ do.

Still, they survived this before. It was officially Mission Fainting Princess because every time Shikako called it Mission Catapult he’d elbowed her for making him laugh so much. It was still number three on his list of Worst Missions ever for the pure weirdness of it. But Sasuke remembers Kako’s Get Home seal, he just needs to get some space and time to set it up. _Gaara’s Garden, here I come._

First he spends a moment to send gentle warm chakra to untie the knots of tension in his neck, easing the pain in his head somewhat. Then uses a fire jutsu to get rid of the evidence of losing his lunch. Last he unrolls a body sealing scroll with a flick of his wrist for the lonely Uchiha. Perhaps he can fling it at the Uchiha compound as he runs past. Nearby a creek burbles and with any luck at all it flows into the Naka- he knows all the twists and turns of the Naka river by heart after months of running patrols. 

After a quick dip in the stream and high speed water jutsu scrub down, he's five minutes of tree bounding from where he landed in this time when a cloud of chakra similar to but far more aggressive than Tenzou’s looms into the range of his senses and Sasuke realizes three things. He must be in Tobirama’s sensing range: probably has been since he appeared. He's been lazy and hasn’t been operating in anything like full stealth. And he's running in trees from Senju Hashirama, the future Shodaime and Mokuton master. 

_Oh fuck. I wonder how long it’s been for_ them _since the Catapult?_

Sasuke lifts his hands in a cross to create a pair of shadow clones to follow along his prior path, molds his own chakra to a good approximation of a fox and runs like the hounds of hell are after him. 

* * *

Times like this, Sasuke thinks about his teammates. How they would handle this situation. Of Senju Tobirama waiting a few meters away to take vengeance for the Catapult Incident. 

Shikako would turn into a shadow and slap another knock out tag on him. There might be taunting after he was safely subdued, in that ridiculous sarcastic way she has. While Sasuke has a handful of the tags and vast supply of sarcasm, he is sadly not able to make his body insubstantial at will. 

Naruto wouldn’t be having this problem, but if he was he’d either talk the man into being friends or spam him with so many shadow clones he would have to submit from pure exhaustion. Or flare him into chakra sensory overload. Naruto could make Shikako uncomfortable with accidental leakage, and Tobirama’s legendary sensing capability was probably vulnerable to the same method. Sasuke tucks the idea away, it might be useful later. 

Sai would have created some flying ink creature and flown the fuck away rather than having to resort to earth-walking, but just like the last time they’d gone time-traveling, Sasuke’s Summons contract is not working at the moment. Tenzou would be the best sort of distraction to wave in front of warring clan era Senju, since the Mokuton is a once a generation thing. They would only have to protect the poor man from attempts to adopt or seduce him long enough to make an escape. 

Sasuke isn’t sure what Kakashi would do: disappear beneath Improved Anbu stealth while whispering in Tobirama’s ear about how the mission report deadlines were too strict, dodging the resulting jutsu and sword barrage without putting his book down. Kakashi-sensei is just like that. 

If this had been a Team Red mission, he would have had his mask and the implicit reminder to be in proper stealth, in addition to Towa and Komachi along to help. While he wouldn’t have put a lot of money on the three of them putting Senju Tobirama down for good, Sasuke has faith their teamwork would have stalled him long enough for an escape. Explosions definitely _not_ optional. 

If Haku, Isobu, and Chojuro ended up here with him, they would have different problems- Isobu is always more than happy to lend some chakra to mask his own and to help with truly impressive area of effect genjutsu, but slathering Haku and Isobu with enough spiritually touched chakra for the Get Home Seal to properly hook onto them both would take days. Shikako and Sasuke joked about every possible way Naruto would have helped or hindered their last trip; from talking the warring clans into a ramen based cease fire to an estimate of the amount of chakra it would take to package the Kyuubi for transport and how the number of shadow clones needed to convert said small lake in a reasonable amount of time would have accidentally conquered the Land of Rivers just by existing. Five weeks of isolated Seal-work led to a lot of randomly wandering conversations over the camp-fire and Sasuke had been more impressed with the River land crocodiles and Hippos than the local Shinobi, resemblance to Asuma be damned. 

Sasuke is considering what nonlethal options he can use on his own when memories from one of his decoy shadow clones inform him that Senju Hashirama plays rough for a teenager. He's pretty sure it was the invasive chakra that actually disrupted his clone, but it is hard to shake the impression of having just died of a hearty clap on the shoulder.

He sorts through the memories from the second clone observing and then dispelling for more detail and compares his estimate of the Senju’s age to his memory of Madara from before. Sasuke remembers his history lessons; the two founding clan leaders were very close to the same age, and so were their surviving brothers, until Izuna died. Or didn’t die, in the split timeline he and Shikako accidentally created. But the Madara who tried to adopt and/or kidnap him was older than this Hashirama, by several years at least. 

Correspondingly, the Tobirama waiting to chop his head off as soon as he sticks it out would be younger than the catapult victim.

Sasuke wants to snort, but the jutsu he is using to supply air is finicky so he saves it for later. Somehow he’s landed further back in time than before, and so no one here has memories of catapults or mysterious new clan members. So Tobirama’s sword is not personal, its just a clan feud thing. This shouldn’t make Sasuke feel better, but it does. His face is going to be enough of a handicap where negotiations are concerned, but if his opponent is used to Uchiha Classic.... This Tobirama hasn’t encountered Shikako’s knockout tags. Or Improved Anbu Stealth. And if he makes his move before Hashirama shows up and spoils the surprise about Shadow Clones, maybe he can replicate that success. Layer on some of Kakashi's distraction tactics and it stands a chance of working long enough for him to get out of dodge and go into Full Improved Stealth once negotiations break down. He does have a face 5 out of 6 Senju want to murder, after all. 

Still, time to be as Team Seven as possible.

* * *

Normally Tobirama would have pursued the potential trap of a single unknown-but-probably-Uchiha chakra signature suddenly appearing on the wrong side of the Senju lands from the Uchiha with his squad, but Hashirama insisted on accompanying him. Since Madara is currently unaccounted for, Butsuma agreed with such disdain that Tobirama hadn’t been able to hide his flinch. It is infuriating that Tobirama is now the one who must prove his loyalty, when Hashirama likes to hang off Uchiha Madara like a strangling vine and pout when his affections aren’t returned. Compared to that, a single tea ceremony at court was nothing.

But if this was a test of a portable version of the concealment seals that the Uchiha compound recently gained, Tobirama isn’t sure if it counts as a success or a failure. The signature remained still for several minutes before heading back toward the Uchiha lands, so it may be that the tester didn’t know when the seal failed. In either case, Tobirama wants to catch the culprit and confiscate everything on them for study before letting them go. Surely that wouldn’t count as really breaking the cease-fire?

Rather than tracking the chakra signal directly, Tobirama insisted on going to where he first sensed it, in case the Uchiha are using the cease-fire to set up a sealed redoubt behind the Senju lines. The source turned out to be near a disturbed grave, which was odd. Someone recently used a fire technique to burn something, but there wasn’t enough remains for a full cremation- perhaps Uchiha want to hide or purify something else.

Hashirama tried to get information from the tree-thicket he’s left in the area by accident, but the Uchiha scrupulously avoided it. The visible trail on the ground was so slight that it was more hints that point toward the nearest stream- the scent trail was strong enough to compensate, until the Uchiha cleansed themselves of the taint of disturbing the dead and then stopped smelling of anything at all. The Senju brothers took the time to do the wash as well, even though the corpse was no longer present. It was only prudent. 

Once the chakra trace was in the trees Hashirama was marginally more helpful in tracking, though he wouldn’t stop yammering about how he hopes Tobirama will just give peace with their enemies a chance, as if it is anyone's choice that they will go back to war once the cease fire ends in April. When the trail split, Tobirama sent his brother after the larger chakra signature on the reasoning that the smaller was likely to be a Summons tasked with returning test results to the Uchiha. Until the ground-bound trail slipped into a badger den and then into the earth in an attempt to evade him, he half-believed it himself. A clever bit of misdirection, but that’s to be expected where the Uchiha Sealing efforts are concerned. 

It takes ten minutes of fierce concentration to follow the traces of earth jutsu and place himself ahead of his target’s most likely exit point. But the Uchiha in question stops well back from the edge of the embankment and is clearly aware of him as well. Their signature is hard to sense through the earth and layers of concealment they’ve woven over themselves; typical Uchiha feathers are strongly present, as is the vague feeling of incense or spice but the ozone of lightning instead of fire has him doubting his first assumptions. There’s something else too, like a poisoned wound wrapped in Will. It’s a very odd flavor for an Uchiha and Tobirama is unsure how he never noticed it before.

Whoever they are, they’re amused at their current situation, which puts Tobirama on edge.

Tobirama frowns as a slight chill falls over him and phantom fingers on his palm tap out an Uzumaki code for _/Neutral-party. Transport Accident. Truce?/_ and has his answer- this Uchiha is obviously a recently returned spy. But how could they have learned an Uzumaki code without a marriage into Uzushio? 

Tobirama makes a command decision to gather more information and calls out, “The Senju have a cease fire with the Uchiha,” because it’s true and he is hopelessly curious now. 

The Genjutsu fades, a portion of the chakra signature moves forward and slides out of the embankment wearing a face eerily similar to Izuna’s but otherwise all wrong. He’s wearing a stiff blue-grey vest over an impractically thin linen shirt rolled to his elbows, close-cut grey trousers and dark sandals, the only deviation from generic practicality being a nod toward Land of Water asymmetry in cut of the vest. The blade sheathed at his back wafts more lightning to Tobirama’s senses now that it’s not actively hidden, sharp but contained.

But by far the biggest difference between this young man and Izuna is that he looks at Tobirama with no hostility, only wariness in his mouth and faint amusement in the creases of his eyes. “Maa, Senju-san, couldn’t you just look the other way and let me cross the river? I almost made it, after all,” the accent is vaguely water-country, but his tone drips sweet reason.

Tobirama shakes his head, he can’t believe the Spy is even trying this, however bemused the clone’s chakra felt. “Intruder-san, my father would never allow anyone related to the Uchiha to pass through our territory unremarked.”

“What sort of remarks does he require?” the clone asks with a lazy smirk, tapping one finger on the opposite elbow. “I’m not from around here, so I am unfamiliar with local customs. What could I hope to offer one such as yourself?”

“I do not need any gifts, Uchiha-san,” Tobirama hurries to assure the uncanny creature wearing Izuna’s face.

“Senju-san, you are jumping to conclusions,” the intruder admonishes, “It would be presumptuous of you to use that name; I have not claimed it.”

“I am Senju Tobirama, what should I call you?”

“Please call me Sasuke, Senju-san,” the clone replies smoothly before dispelling itself. The chakra making up the clone moves back to the hidden caster in a rush, restoring much of the reserves expended on the technique. Tobirama notes the efficiency and wonders if it can be applied to other types of Jutsu. 

Maybe-Uchiha Sasuke moves forward in the earth, chakra still alive with amusement, projecting his voice from the stones by means of a minor chakra trick, “I’m going to come out to continue our chat, don’t try to stab me please.”

“I will not be the one to break our cease fire,” Tobirama repeats and sheaths his sword.

“Good enough.” Sasuke slides sideways to exit the embankment well out of sword range. He's dressed similarly to his clone, with the addition of a forehead protector engraved with a spiral inside of a leaf holding most of his unruly dark hair back from his face. The design can’t be anything but reference to Uzushio, but Tobirama has never seen the leaf variation before. It reduces his resemblance to Izuna, who would never wear such a thing, even further. 

“Why are you in Senju territory, Sasuke-san?” Tobirama gets this questioning back on track. 

“An accident, I think.” Sasuke shrugs as if he can’t be bothered to wonder, “Who can know the mind of those who would disturb the dead? Anyway, I’ll send myself back as soon as I have time to draw up the right seal.”

Tobirama ignores the ice that runs up his spine and puts the implications of that statement aside for later examination; what he has here is a rare opportunity to do what he wants with none the wiser. “If you were to demonstrate the seal you would use, I could let you go in the spirit of the cease-fire we are holding with the Uchiha.”

“So if I demonstrate an unknown seal for you, I’ll be free to go?”

Put that way it doesn’t sound quite so smart, but Tobirama knows how to protect himself from backfires and explosions. He nods. 

“Deal.” Sasuke draws out a wide sheet of fine paper, a brush and an expensive glass ink bottle from a sealing scroll before Tobirama can rethink his impulse. A casual and signless whisper of chakra flattens a section of ground into a writing surface. Sasuke contemplates the paper for a moment, then begins to place characters both familiar and strange into a hexagonal array. It has elements of Uzushio sealing, but is clearly mixed with something very foreign; Tobirama finds himself squatting on his heels at right angles to the other young man to watch. 

“This isn’t at all like what brought me here, but it got us back last time we had a seal mishap,” Sasuke says as if its an explanation. 

Tobirama examines the array and can almost see how four of the main Kanji interact to create a transportation effect, but the other two anchor characters are constructs of radicals put together in a way he isn’t familiar with, even if Sasuke brushes them onto the paper with confidence. The one on top might mean Mirror of the World but why not just use the standard kanji for Map? The bottom symbol is Life-Death-Garden and no more sensible. 

“Is this your design?” Tobirama can sense Hashirama lurking back from the treeline, but the hopeful bubbling of his brother’s chakra is all too familiar. Tobirama is perfectly capable of having civil conversations without Hashirama’s overbearing version of friendliness leading the way.

Sasuke flicks his eyes towards Hashirama’s hiding place, but doesn’t say anything about it. “No, my friend Kako developed this the last time we ended up in the wrong world. Took a while, but still faster than running home,” the small smile that crosses Sasuke’s face as he speaks of his friend is terribly fond, “She bounced ideas off me during the design process, so I’m familiar with it.”

“I see,” and Tobirama wishes he did. Mito-san is a formidable seals-mistress, but the current discord between himself, Butsuma, and Hashirama made speaking to her at length difficult. 

Sasuke inks the last line and motions Tobirama backward. “It didn’t blow up last time, but it’s a Kako seal, so...”

Tobirama nods and steps back, wary now of what the seal may have hidden in the inscrutable symbols woven into its design. 

Sasuke shifts his attention toward Hashirama again before putting away his writing implements. When Tobirama’s elder brother makes no move to stop him, Sasuke forms the Rat sign to mold and circle chakra, gathering up spiritually dense chakra into his skin for some reason.

With his chakra moving so clearly, Tobirama is better able to sense the cursed wound on Sasuke’s neck. It smells of poison but also of lingering death, as if someone tried to curse the teen with their dying will. _Senju don’t do poison or curses like that._ Tobirama tells himself he’s not offended that someone else laid such a mark on his enemy, but he is a bit jealous of the skill with which curse is contained. What he can see of the containment seal as it flares in reaction to the chakra carefully layered over it also has elements of Uzu style sealing- perhaps this Kako person has ties to Uzushio?

Once Sasuke builds up a layer of spiritual chakra over his entire skin, he gives Tobirama a lazy wave and a wink, “Bye now.” The stranger with Izuna’s face and none of his attitude waits for Tobirama’s nod before he places his hand into the center of the seal and falls into the paper like diving into water. 

Tobirama tries to retrieve the odd seal; the paper crumbles apart into ash. _Of Course_. Only traces of the jutsu remain, like a tunnel through space rapidly fading. Wherever Sasuke went is out of Tobirama’s sensing range, even before Hashirama distracts him with an overwhelming hug of approval.

* * *

Many miles away, Sasuke wakes up with an aching head for the third time in half a day and wants things to stop now.

The stone temple looks nothing like the verdant garden where he and Shikako returned after their last time travel jaunt -this is not the Garden of Life from Death- this is still the Dead Wastes. Sasuke has never been to the Dead Wastes, but he recognizes them from descriptions of how they used to be. Still are, here. 

Clearly there are things that Shikako left out of the activation process of the Get Home Seal, and he’s going to have to wait for rescue or find his own way back.

Sasuke is bad at waiting, but he can try. He will wait here, where the likelihood of human interaction is very low. 

The entrance of the tunnel where he lands is a good place to camp- it blocks the wind but lets him see out over the desert and the stars. There’s no natural chakra here and his curse-seal is reacting by giving him the strangest sort of Tinnitus. He can’t afford to waste too much chakra on keeping warm, so he unseals thicker clothing and blankets and layers up before munching on a ration bar. 

Sasuke makes himself comfortable and clears his thoughts- hours spent guarding the Hokage taught him the art of stillness first of body, then of mind. The ringing of his curse-seal dominates his other senses and so he lets it, listening to the almost-song until he can hum along and it fades into a dull roar. 

Only then can he address what’s been bothering him since he stepped out of the tunnel and looked up at the gorgeous sweep of stars above: they aren’t right. Celestial navigation is taught at the Academy as a supplement to dead reckoning and learning to read topography, and Sasuke has very clear and bittersweet memories of his mother sitting with him on the roof and telling stories about the constellations as he filled out his academy star map. He breathes out, letting those memories fade back as he focuses on the present. Only half of the constellations are where they should be; bright stars that should be familiar trace strange shapes, telling stories he does not know. 

If the lack of greenery and farms aren’t confirmation enough that he’s failed to get back to his own time and place, the Stars certainly are. 

He flicks his Sharingan on to get a memory of this new sky, and the Song redoubles it’s efforts to get his attention. There’s no ambient chakra in this place, but he can see echoes of it in the cave below, a flowing maze of lines pocked with something that resonates with the same song. 

_Can’t I sleep first?_ he thinks at the cave and the music, and is surprised when the song softened in assent. He closes his eyes and lets sleep take him. 

Exploring the cave and collecting three of the crystalline stones that are growing at certain points in the seal-matrix takes Sasuke about four hours of careful listening and prying with an already dull kunai and lock-file. Experimenting with the stones until he can establish something like communication with the Kami of the Song takes another day. Understanding what the Kami wants takes closer to a week of long, long meditations. Confirming that breaking the seal -rather than letting the Kami free via a more elegant solution he can’t provide- won’t irreparably break anything important to himself or the global climate takes another two and half weeks.

He spends the time when he needs to rest his mental ears exploring the ruins and old mine more thoroughly, taking it all in. Mosaics and paintings show fantastical machines and people in strange armor, and if you start in the right place on the central plaza, you can piece together a narrative of expanding empire based on some sort of shining crystals- possibly the same as the stones he’s found, stylized for the pictures into something more impressive. But the emptiness of this place, the fact that every piece of clothing and armor and geometric patterning is so strange that not even echoes of it remained to crop up in modern fashions tell him this empire fell a long time ago and the memory was lost on purpose, crushed out. 

Sasuke is not Shikako or Sai, seals have always been a matter of practical interest rather than an obsession or art, and this seal is ancient and foreign in every way. With the help of the Song whispering to him, a repurposed glassblowing jutsu, and the Sharingan, Sasuke maps it anyway. How the energy flows, how the seal directs it into matrices to form the chakra stones, and where he can break the rocks and alter the current so that it flows out into the wastes again. The trick will be doing it from the surface so that he won’t be trapped in the caves if they collapse suddenly. He writes it all down in the notebook Shikako pressed on him to record any and all seals he encountered while taking missions not in her company, after the page with a copy of the “Ancestor Graves” seal. 

Dawn is a natural time for such transitions, but he couldn’t sleep and ends up standing on the sandy ridge under the beautiful, wrong stars an hour before first light, the Song flowing freely through his mind as he reaches deep. 

Stone moves.

The ancient seal fights back, but like a spirit maze, once a weakness is introduced by an outside force the entire structure loses it’s integrity. Sasuke pushes again and the Singing Kami is freed. 

Chakra surges like a tide, and if Sasuke wasn’t intimately familiar with Bijuu he’d be concerned, but this chakra is deliriously, unreservedly _Happy_ with him. The main problem is anchoring himself in reality as it tried to sweep him up into the stars in its wake. 

He thinks about all his teammates, Shikako’s nose wrinkles and Naruto’s blinding grins and Kakashi’s head tilts; Sai’s blank smile as he insults someone to their face, and Tenzo-senpai’s long suffering sighs at their antics. Team Red and their own break-the-world version of plausible deniability. He thinks about the rest of the rookie nine, the Anbu he works and trains with, Tsunade and Shizune and even Jiraiya, the Education Reform Committee, team Anko, team Gai, Teuchi and Ayame from Ichiraku and Umei from the tailor’s shop, the herd of Jounin and Special Jounin that suffered through patrols with him, all supporting Konoha in different ways.

He imagines Gaara and Temari and Kankurou who are Sand’s version of designated weirdness targets; Fuu’s soft laugh the last time he’d been to Waterfall; the warmth filling Haku's face when he smiles freely and the mischief of a secret shared between just them. Zabuza, Isobu, Utakata, and Saiken all coming home in their own time to heal a bleeding village; Mei, Chojuro, Yoro and Shiku and the other Mist shinobi he’d been working with then this all went wrong and he tells the Kami that he needs to stay. He needs to get back to them, to find them again. 

The Song changes, the joy of freedom tempered with loss- the Kami knows about missing people. It will not take him away from them. 

Instead it takes his Curse mark; when he opens his mouth to scream, stars flow in. He is filled with the swirling energy of the night, forcing out the lingering infection of Orochimaru’s chakra.

For a moment he is the Stars, vast as the sky and looking down on the glowing souls below.

Then he is flesh and spirit and poison again.

The Curse burns like acid as it comes out; the stars’ cold fire cleanses as it races to wipe all traces of the old corruption away and fill the scars with new light. He is left numb and ringing like a tuning fork as the memory of Stars sinks into his bones.

Sasuke breathes. 

The cave system fails to collapse under him, but the old blocked dragon vein is also an underground spring, and the water is flowing again. Sasuke is going to find some and take a real bath as soon as it is too warm to stay outside. For now he is content to wait; the sun is rising over the desert, and he can sense the plants surging to meet the light. 

Just maybe that will let him be found from the other side, if they match. 

Sasuke stays in the Garden for another three days, drinking as much water as he wants and refilling every container he emptied during the weeks of meditation and mapping. He marvels at how quickly the plants grow, soaking up centuries of repressed chakra to put on years of growth in hours. He doesn’t want to think too hard about how the bacteria from forest lichen and assorted bugs he brought with him by accident are no doubt breeding with the same speed to sustain the dirt once the excess chakra is used up, but the inner Shino memory is hard to ignore when enthused.

He experiments with the crystal that formed in the center of his former curse seal mark while he waits. It lays a bit under his skin, and like the stones he collected from the ruins, it has no chakra of it’s own anymore, instead acting as a converter. When he channels Yang-chakra and uses the output to activate his Sharingan he is able to see natural energy and the dragon veins now snaking out from the Garden; Yin-chakra expands his detailed chakra sensing range from the paltry twenty-some meters he can achieve on his own to _kilometers_.

So he knows that Shukaku is headed his way long, _long_ before the Bijuu arrives. 


	2. Wind Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasuke goes back to move forward and finds cats; Tobirama receives mercy and hates it.

Most people didn’t know Bijuu are people with moods that could be read from their chakra; for example, Ichibi Shukaku as he bore down on the newly sprouted Garden of Life From Death, version two. Sasuke could parse out the threads of sticky curiosity, flickering florescent irritation, and sharp red territorial show-boating woven into the familiar scratchy maroon blood thirst of the demented Tanuki, but that was the shape of his life experiences giving him this moment of clarity as he flees the scene. Hopefully investigating the Garden would be a good distraction for the big ball of murder; it was a restful place and sap wasn't the same. 

The inevitable result of having no teammates to ride herd on was that there is no one around to veto his bad ideas either. He cuts it closer than intended with Shukaku, hoping that a portal would open up with an exasperated Shikako on the other side at the last moment. 

No Dice.

The voice in his head that sounds mostly like Tenzo-senpai thinks he just wants an excuse to try out a new ability. It maybe isn’t the best time and place to try combining a Shunshin with earth flow nonsense, but now that he has a method to detect the dragon-lines himself it feels right and inevitable that he should experiment. There’s a surface level dragon-line extending in the general direction of the Wind Daimyo’s seat; he needs a fast way out of Shukaku’s path of destruction. If the universe didn’t want him to try, the fates would not have aligned temptation so well. 

Neither Shikako or Tenzo appear to laugh as he digs himself out of the dune an unknown number of miles from where he started. Sasuke checks to make sure the sudden sand polish he’s given himself hasn’t stripped away anything too important, like limbs or his sabre or his last remaining braincell. After assuring himself that everything is more or less where it should be- including Shukaku, now comfortably distant- he takes a few minutes for essential maintenance. He jots a few notes about not using Dragon Veins he can’t see the end of for transport, rubs on an extra layer of medicinal cream onto the exposed and abraded parts of himself, and drinks more water.

He could wait for Shukaku to leave, but who knew how long the Bijuu would battle the Song-Garden Kami for possession of that bit of the desert. Better to continue toward the closest city for resupply and to take stock- there might even be seal-masters in this world he could hire on commission, you never knew until you checked. There’s still a lot of desert between him and anywhere, so he continues north and east at a bounding lope. 

As he runs Sasuke feeds yin chakra into his new Star-crystal to track Shukaku’s location every quarter-hour or so, varying how long he holds the increased senses as he forces himself to adjust to greater range and texture of input it gives him. The desert of Wind is a good place to train such an ability, being much less dense with information to process than say, the forests around Konoha. 

The Yang-based nature-energy sensing he only works on during rest breaks, because once he clears the lingering area of null around the formerly Dead Wastes, the desert turns out to be teeming with subtle life, lingering traces of Shukaku’s passage, and underground rivers that trickle and roar through caverns far below the shifting sand. It’s easy to lose time while watching the natural world pulse and sing, so he sets up a time keeping jutsu and is strict with himself. He can’t afford to get dehydrated out here.

Three days later he senses a caravan ahead and has to decide whether to skirt around it or to investigate more closely- they have shinobi guards that feel like fluttering fire and familiar in that vague way that he associates with senbei and fingers in his hair and _bodies, still warm, you almost could believe they were sleeping except the blood..._

Sasuke slows to a stop, pinching the pressure point between his thumb and first finger to ground himself. He needs to be rational about this. 

So, his first two plans to get home have failed. Shikako’s seal from last time was missing some component. Waiting at the Garden isn’t viable with Shukaku in the area. He has a tentative Plan C to see if the Cats of Soraku have any insights; they were an Uchiha ally from before the warring clans era and Summon Dimensions are weird. Of course, going to the Cats would be as good as walking up to the Uchiha and waving his membership card. 

Last time that ended in adoption attempts. One endlessly long and aggravating day spent dealing with trauma limpet Kagatsuchi, fainting princess Izuna, _yes-killing-intent-is-my-default-setting-why-do-you-ask_ Madara and then a compound of overbearing adults. Shaking them off long enough to meet back up with Shikako had been an emotional punch that he sidestepped by worrying about other things. He’d been the mission captain, for all that he and Shikako tended to work as partners when it was just the two of them, and he had responsibilities that did not include getting sucked into a clan war or bogged down by flashbacks. This time he doesn’t have the luxury of focusing on keeping his team healthy and on-track, so he will have to keep himself healthy, sane and on-track. For however long this takes.

_Right._

He is alone in this time. Except for his clan, who might take him in or who may not recognize him as a member at all. A younger Madara not so blinded by grief and then gratitude is much more likely to notice all the discrepancies and wonder how he’s ended up with Izuna’s face. He needs more of a cover story than just borrowing Haku’s accent and Kakashi’s attitude to troll Tobirama if he is going to pull this off. 

There are Uchiha who are certainly not Madara some number of kilometers away- he still doesn’t have a firm grasp on how far his expanded senses stretch since Bijuu, chakra gardens, a bunch of scorpions, and that one snake are all at the very large or very small ends of the chakra scale. The group is moving at a decent civilian pace for the terrain, so he has some time before they’ll be close enough to observe him unless they have a sensor or summons of their own. 

Sasuke swaps out his usual summer-weight shirt for one of Haku’s blue-green armored under robes - the left sleeve still needed proper mending but it wouldn’t be that noticeable once he put his arm guards back on. He trades his usual cloak for one of Chojuro’s longer mantles to go over the top of the wrapped robe, unfolding the collar to stand a bit taller and protect the back of his neck from the sun. The Anbu-issue cloak is too sleek and processed for this time period, but the flax and cotton blend of the mantle should pass as just weird cloth from Water, especially with the blue and white edging. He keeps his usual trousers, the dark grey canvas is sturdy and the modern closures can be hidden under his top until he has a chance to change them. _Why did he not do that while sitting around in the middle of nowhere for a month?_ He blames it on the infectiously dogged optimism of people like Naruto, Yoro and Shiku, thinking this would be solved without having to do an extended undercover operation. 

He tucks away his forehead protector and a few other suspiciously modern items into the extra secure part of the storage scroll. The reed hat Mei dropped on his head as a half-joke completes the outfit nicely.

He actually has both his own recent wardrobe acquisitions and the entire pile of Water-styled civilian cover laundry in his storage scrolls and he intends to sacrifice the cheap civilian stuff liberally for his new cover: orphan adopted by wandering Shinobi after the tragic death of his parents, recently separated and far from his normal stomping grounds for vague political reasons. Thankfully between the search for Utakata and then escorting him and Saiken on their fact-finding mission, Sasuke has wandered over two thirds of the Land of Water and considers himself passably familiar with the place. Further, Haku and Zabuza made a bit of a contest of embarassing each other with stories of their misadventures together before the alliance team deployed for the mission that landed him here, so he has a fresh stock of anecdotes for adaptation as well. Sasuke smiles at the memory of that evening holed up in Haku’s place, talking until the moon set over the cliffs of Hidden Mist.

Sasuke’s learned many methods of misleading people in his time as a ninja, but one of the easiest is telling just enough of the truth for people’s assumptions to fill in the rest. He can borrow Haku’s accent and story and imbue them with real emotions from his own sad past of bloody murder and loneliness, for that ring of authenticity that you need when dealing with experts in interrogation and/or doujutsu users. 

So, steps to infiltrate the Uchiha clan, but better this time. Use these less scary clan members to gauge clan attitudes and if all went well to vouch for him. It would be best if they came to the conclusion that he is a long lost member of their clan on their own- considering how much Izuna looks like him, or he looks like Izuna?- it shouldn’t be a hard sell. Let them think taking him back to the clan compound is their own idea too, if the Cats didn’t pan out. 

He can do this without freaking out. He is a Jounin of Konoha, Anbu-captain and Lucky Seven, Tamer of Bijuu. He’s faced worse things than living Uchiha. He just needs a moment.

In the end he has to run for another two hours before the caravan reacts to him. That’s long enough to count and sort the members of the party by chakra density and affinity with his extended range: four fire-natured Uchiha and one wind-natured not-Uchiha who is probably their sensor. While he is tempted to just sort the fiery chakra signatures by size, there is a feeling of orderliness and practiced use in the two smallest that reminds him of Shizune, Sakura, or Shikako, while one of the large reserves feels unfinished, like it is still growing. _Some people think that Shikako is the smallest threat because of her reserves, too._ Sasuke got the feeling Star-crystal enhanced sensing is going to be his new favorite cheat but reminds himself to keep practicing his observation and sensing without it. Complacency and assumptions could get him killed. 

Two of the Uchiha move towards him while the rest hang back, and Sasuke slows his run gradually as they come into viewing distance- in the rocky flats of this stretch of desert that is not close at all. They continue toward each other at a walk under mutual scrutiny, and Sasuke maintains Haku’s neutral posture instead of Kakashi’s insouciant slouch. It’s not often that the inner voice prompting his actions sounded so much like the ancient oba who’d been in charge of teaching him manners Before, but he lets those old instincts carry him through the first round of greetings, where he carefully does not use his full name. 

Uchiha Koresue has slightly curly hair and laughing eyes like Shisui would have if he’d survived to his mid-thirties; Uchiha Tarumae has three colors of cat hair littered across her clothing and the same unblinking gaze as her likely summons, though he doesn’t sense any with her. It’s easier to look at the cat summoner and then away, conveying his lack of challenge, than to look too long at Koresue’s kindness. Hopefully his choice of clothing, accent, and demeanor give enough suggestions of his cover story for them to read in turn. 

The exchange of itineraries is pretty vague, but Sasuke manages to tell them that he’s heading north because it’s away from the Ichibi, but is otherwise at loose ends without tripping over himself too badly. It got him thoughtful looks and an offer to share the road at least until lunch. He accepts and sets out to be as amiable a travel companion as he can without tipping over into annoying- the Naruto routine only works for Naruto because he can maintain that level of cheer indefinitely; Sasuke is better off with good manners and dry humor. 

His willingness to share the good Water country spice cakes during lunch- and to politely ignore everyone testing them for poison- convinces the caravan’s cook to pull the other adults aside for a short conversation. Sasuke obligingly asks the other teen in the group her opinion of the desert, to pretend he isn’t eavesdropping. 

He honestly isn’t sure what comment prompted Taramae to flick through a familiar sequence of signs. A lovely short-haired calico ninneko in a blue yukata appeared- she isn’t familiar, so he isn’t worried until the cat takes a long look at him and then chakra surges behind him. 

Sasuke dives forward, but the trio of ninneko ambushers have clearly worked together for a long time and consequently covered all the likely angles. And their chakra doesn’t have the sharp prickles of hostility, it’s more bubbly playful, so he chooses not to use any chakra to run away.

“Sasuke-bo!” the over-size Cat sitting on his back as he sprawls in the dust is way too happy to have won this little ambush, it radiates like the heat from the stone, “So strange but auspicious to meet you here and now, with Family!” 

A painful level of hope grips Sasuke’s throat even as he wants to laugh, but the chakra is familiar even if the weight isn’t, “Maa, Denka-taicho, you’ve gotten fat.” 

The Cat laughs at him, then split into three separate weights- apparently it is a combination jutsu rather than a size-changing one. Sasuke twists himself around so that he is no longer in danger of breathing dirt; instead he has a face full of fur. 

“The Elders felt the disturbance in the Wastes and thought it was you.” Hina purrs, aggressively scent-marking his head despite the awkwardness of her light mesh armor scraping over him. “They will be pleased at how quickly we found you.”

Denka, now restored to his familiar size, claws at Sasuke’s wrist guard with his usual temper, “How dare you call me fat! Who first taught you stealth, kitten?” 

“I’m not sure; they were pretty quiet,” Sasuke quips back, sitting up and scratching between Hina’s ears as she settles onto his shoulder.

“You should tell us about why you smell like Stars, Sasuke-senpai.” the third cat draped across his legs puts in. Momo is a darker brown than Denka, with a similar pattern to his fur- he was also a tiny kitten when Sasuke last traveled to Soraku, but inexplicably appears to be the same age as the other two now.

“How about this,” Sasuke offers, “I’ll tell you about that if you help me get home.”

Hina head-butts his face, but her reply is a rumble in his ear bones, not to be overheard. “We share knowing between all nine of our lives, so of course we remember you. And we want to help, but we can’t send you back through our dimension.” 

“Unless you want to be reborn as a real kitten?” Momo counter-offers with a smirk, “You’d be so cute, Sempai!” 

“I think I’ll keep that as a last resort,” Sasuke mutters as he checks the reactions of the Uchiha caravan. Tarumae’s calico ninneko is sitting primly, tail wrapped around her feet and obviously pleased with herself. The humans seem more relaxed, expressions ranging from amused to wildly curious- it seems that their conversation has not given away as much as he thought. “Ah, are these your cats, Tarumae-san?”

Of course they aren’t, the surprise at their appearance is too obvious, but they are Uchiha cats. Uchiha cats who are draped over him like a kotatsu in winter. It’s a very good ways toward proving his family connection without any words on his part. He keeps his smirk firmly on the inside as he and the cats field a number of questions without lying but without telling the truth. Traveling to the wrong time and dimension isn’t something he wants to give away to just anyone.

Koresue allows that he may travel with them for a time, as a trial run. The Cats take it as capitulation. 

Their group travels through what will eventually be Stone Country but right now is an area in dispute between three minor nobles of the same family, all in a frosty war of legal claims and intimidation that has everyone on edge but not bleeding yet. They trade for local specialties in small villages and towns, contract to courier messages to places further along their route, and waft through the lines of the conflict as neutral parties. Once an Innkeeper begs them to rescue his daughter from bandits that have taken her hostage; Koresue turns out to be quite skilled at gathering information, Tarumae and her cats are just as effective at tracking, and they are willing to let Sasuke handle the infiltration and retrieval of the hostages after he demonstrates his ability to fade away in front of them. The bandits are briefly confused and then dead, because Sasuke believes in second chances but not for certain crimes. After their successful rescue mission returns more than just the one missing person, Moku unbends towards him enough to actually explain the political situation they’re navigating, and Naeba takes that as permission to increase her question barrage whenever they are outside of towns. 

Naeba can’t be blamed: the ninneko show up as tag-alongs to Tarumae’s Summons for weeks until they are satisfied they have gotten his whole story. He hears the beginnings of the epic song of how he “freed the Star Kami who was trapped under the earth” in Hina and Momo’s insistence on more description even after he sings the Song for them. 

He comes out of that meditation draped with three sleeping ninneko, a yearling antelope pressed to his left side, a young hawk-eagle drowsing on his right wrist, and a family of ground hogs, various rabbits, voles, and other small creatures all watching him with curiosity from varying distances. Around him the copse of trees sang with the Echoes of the Song, resonating through the flow of nature energy and the crystals he carries, humming in his bones. Sasuke considers keeping the hawk-eagle, but he’s never tamed a wild bird and this seems like a bad time to start. He’s having enough problems finding time to change out the zippers and button on his spare clothes for more period appropriate ties without being too closely observed, adding a young bird to the mix won’t help. 

The Land of Earth is physically much as Sasuke remembers it- rocks, rocks and more rocks. The people are similarly stubborn and resourceful to eke out a living in such a place. Naeba insists he teach her how to stick to vertical surfaces after he gathers fresh water from the bottom of a crevasse the fast way. How she’s so proficient in water walking but not this skill flummoxes him, but he teaches her. Tarumae’s cats join in by using Sasuke as a vertical surface, to the amusement of everyone but Genbai, who never laughs except when he’s winning at cards. 

Fortunately their turn-around destination is only a week or so from the border at their amble: a medium sized town built on a tributary to the Furikawa to serve as a trade hub between several local mines and the traders coming up the river. The two week trip down the river and relatively short hike into Waterfall reminds Sasuke that even really large rivers like the Furikawa could shift their course on their own, because that oxbow lake was not there in the future even before Team Red happened.

They’re another month in Waterfall and Grass before they turn back east. The Aburame are eager to trade for gossip and a kind of wood that must be a special order, from the ceremony it’s presented with. He discovers that with practice he can sense thunderstorms coming by seeding the flow of yin chakra to his Star-crystal with just enough yang energy to flutter the nature energy sensing on without switching entirely- it’s a good exercise for long days of jogging at the pace of the group. Using an earth jutsu to create a temporary place to wait out the rain is also just sensible, though Moku warns him that he must be more careful with his chakra when they approach Senju territory. 

They’ve been back in Fire Country territory for four days, traveling a bit faster than their usual pace through the forests toward the ancestral feuding grounds of the Uchiha and the Senju clans when Sasuke senses a familiar cold water and fur chakra signature on the edge of his range but moving closer. _Well shit. The cease fire must have expired while we were away._

He calls out the news and takes a moment to confirm no Butsuma and certainly no Hashirama. This is small comfort because three warriors following Tobirama at speed is four Senju too many. Their chakra textures are uniformly hardened and sharp despite the mix of water and earth affinities- Shinobi warriors, not merchants who specialize in beautiful butterflies of fire, who can drive off and track bandits but do not usually kill them in their camps. Sasuke likes to think he’s pretty good at protecting people, but he’s not Tobirama-with-backup good. 

According to Koresue they are too far from the Uchiha compound for a sprint, though they all pick up their pace automatically.

“If we can’t make it back, and we can’t fight them, then we should hide,” Sasuke suggests, doing his best not to use his taicho voice. 

“From Senju Tobirama?” Genbai doesn’t hide his skepticism, “He’s got a range we can’t beat.”

“No one is unbeatable,” Sasuke insists, swapping to mostly yang-chakra on his star crystal for a moment to search out any areas of particularly dense natural chakra that will be useful for what he has in mind. About two compass points out of their line of travel is a tree that was recently struck by lightning and partially burned, but didn’t die- perfect. “Koresue?”

The group leader nods, “It will give us time to rest before we have to run again and give the Homeguard a chance to notice what’s happening and send reinforcements.”

“At least there’s a plan,” Genbai seems mollified, if not enthused. Genbai seldom enthused about anything and the situation is putting everyone on edge, so Sasuke resists the urge to comment. 

Sasuke leads them to the lightning-struck tree he has picked out to anchor the layers of concealment jutsu, though he has to pull out his Hawk-Taicho voice to convince Tarumae to sit near any tree with Senju approaching. When Moku confirms that Hashirama is not in the approaching group everyone calms considerably. It makes drawing the light and heat reflecting jutsu over them easier- Uchiha run hot even when they aren’t agitated. He explains that the marks he’s making are the boundaries of the concealed area, so they have to stay within them. The Camp Concealment Jutsu is an adaptation (or Bastardization, if you asked Naruto) of Anbu stealth techniques, secrecy barriers, and anchored genjutsu to create a hidden area. Its not an official Anbu technique yet, but Team Red’s used it enough that Sasuke felt confident it will hold for a few hours even against heavy probing. In theory the lightning and fire chakra still in the tree should help mitigate the strength of Tobirama’s sensing, allowing any chakra not absorbed by the technique to hide against the tree’s greater strength.

“I’m going to create an illusion of us running away, and then I’ll hide myself nearby and keep watch until they leave,” Sasuke said as he tied off the last of the genjutsu anchors. 

The looks leveled at him range from sad to mutinous; Tarumae produces another calico cat no bigger than a normal kitten, but with a sharp intelligence in her eyes. He obediently tucks the summon into his top. Time to pit decades of concentrated Stealth and Pranking R&D against a teenage version of a legendary ninja.

* * *

Tobirama slams the washbrush down and glares at his brother, “Anija, you’re the only one who likes the Uchiha. That... that... Youkai with Izuna’s face just showed up to trick us, not to make friends!”

Hashirama’s cheer dims only slightly, “But Shurou said no one died, or even really got hurt.”

“That is not the point,” Tobirama knows he’s fuming but feels justified. He rubs a hand through his hair: still as unnaturally stiff as when he started. “He could have. And who knows what the Uchiha were up to while we were distracted.”

“They weren’t up to anything, don’t worry so much,” his brother brushed off his concerns as usual, “We kept watch and they just kept the usual patrols. The most dangerous thing in the forest today was a mother boar and her piglets.” 

“They have an Youkai playing tricks on us, that is Not Nothing!” Tobirama shouts, pulling more water from the warming boilers to soak his hair again and enjoying the squawk when his brother caught some of the excess in the face. “Do I look like I made a friend?”

Hashirama blinks at him, “You look like someone tossed you in the mud.”

Tobirama wished for one moment that he too could breath fire. Instead he applies his anger to scrubbing at his scalp with the harsher soap, cracking some of the hardened nodules of the mystery substance that the Youkai’s trap splattered all over his head. He can work the soap into some areas that haven’t completely dried, but the gunk won’t budge. 

Hashirama busies himself feeding the fire that keeps the water warm, humming in that annoying cheerful way of his. After several minutes of this, he announces, “You know, Touka was always able to help with my hair, I’ll go get her,” and leaves before Tobirama can do more than start a protest. 

At least he has a few minutes to collect his thoughts before they can possibly arrive, as Touka’s on the other end of the compound practicing. He sighs as the gunk doesn’t budge for a second application of the harsh soap and reaches for the cleaner usually reserved for scrubbing out buckets and the medical slabs. He would have to wash out the bath house repeatedly to clear the smell of ammonia, but he isn’t going to do this wash and confess outdoors either. 

Touka is the only one to come inside, Hashirama’s chakra signature parting with hers a good ten paces from the door with only a token protest. She surveys his half-dressed, gunk-haired misery with the practice of many years and squares up to the task. She holds out her hand and he passes over the bottle of cleaner. “That bad?” she asks.

“I tried, it’s hardened,” Tobirama replies, turning and sitting on a stool to give his cousin easier access to the top of his head, where the damage is most obvious. 

She doesn’t say anything for a little while, and the tension of his shoulders ease as she ran the cloth soaked in ammonia over his abused hair, slowly breaking the lumps into smaller pieces. “So, I hear there’s an Uchiha with a new trick. What happened, cousin?”

Tobirama deflated. “There was a squad of Uchiha returning and we went out to intercept them. Then they disappeared. We searched the area but didn’t find them. Most of my squad were caught in traps that immobilized them somehow, each different. Only one Uchiha deigned to reveal himself, the False Izuna. He-” here Tobirama gestures at his hair and the armor that needs similar treatment hanging out of the way of the water, “-did this, and-” He clacked his teeth together, unable to voice even to Touka the humiliation of not recognizing Sasuke until he’d pushed back his hat and grinned like a fox demon. His chakra changed in the intervening months but the lightning, the feathers, the crushed herbs- a sensor of Tobirama’s skill should not have been fooled just because the poisoned curse was removed and replaced with stardust. A sensor of his skill should not have been fooled at all. The bastard Uchiha’s polite greeting just made it worse. 

“That Obake you warned us about a few months back?” Touka prods, pushing his head forward with the vigor of her attack on his scalp. “Izuna’s face but everything else is wrong, appeared and disappeared with great mysteriousness in the middle of winter?”

“Yes,” Tobirama tries not to hiss, “I didn’t have any trouble tracking him last time!”

Touka’s fingers still for a moment. “But he snuck up on you this time. Completely blind-sided you in fact. Got you with-” she tugs at his hair, lifting a partially dissolved chunk free “-tree sap.”

“He only showed himself to taunt me!” Tobirama pulls free of Touka’s grip, curling forward and gripping at his hair, “He just mocked me for a bandit, said I couldn’t tell a civilian from a warrior. I tried to kill him; he _waved_ as he vanished and I couldn’t even sense traces of where he’d been in the trees.”

Touka’s hand presses into the back of his neck: warm, comforting, but with a promise of claws. “You weren’t good enough,” she says, “even your Sensing was fooled.”

Tobirama scrunches his eyes closed and breathes against the scream. “Yes.”

Touka’s fingers rub small circles into his skin. “Never happened before, not for this, has it?” He makes a small affirmative sound, and she continues, “So even though everyone is fine, you feel terrible because you failed and your enemy rubbed your nose in it.”

All Tobirama can do is nod. He’s failed before, what normal person hasn’t failed in life? But his sensing has always been unassailable. His range may not have been far enough, his focus not good enough to sort through everything he can feel, but he’s never been unable to sense what was right in front of him. The privacy seals on the Uchiha compound don’t count, seals could be stronger than any individual. But Sasuke sounds younger than Izuna, and there were no seals when he vanished in front of Tobirama, he would have noticed that. It shouldn’t have been possible.

He jumps when Touka’s free hand boxes his ear. “You arrogant brat! Did you expect to be better than everyone you came across forever?” Tobirama spins and presses a hand to his ear, the other raised in warding, but Touka looms forward, staring him in the eyes, “Did you really think no one would develop better stealth jutsu? That you were already so perfect that you have nothing left to learn?” she lowers her voice to whisper but it bites harder, “Be glad your enemy was willing to let you go with a warning.”

Tobirama pales. Touka is the undisputed best at Genjutsu in the Senju clan, as she has been for years- but she nearly died at the hands of a Uchiha Genjutsu master when they were younger. Her two older teammates _had_ died, and only luck and a tree root saved her from a similar decapitation. She ran. She lived. And forever after approached missions with humility that saved many lives. He’s always glad when she returns alive, so thankful for her steady presence in his life. 

But he approached this mission with the assumption of easy victory, out of the sensing range of the heavy combat squads of the Uchiha on the border patrols. Even after all the Uchiha disappeared, he hadn’t altered their usual searching pattern- isolated individuals walking a grid search like they used when searching for objects without any chakra, all within Tobirama’s sensing range, of course. But that isolation left them vulnerable to a person who could hide their chakra and target their weaknesses. If Sasuke wanted to kill them all, he could have picked them off one at a time and the only warning would have been their chakra flaring and disappearing as the rest of the squad rushed in, too late to help, each falling into a neat trap already waiting for them. 

Tobirama is vaguely aware that he’s folded in half, breath coming in ragged bursts, of Touka’s hand on his back again. He led his squad into an ambush. He was lucky that any of them survived it. No, it was the completely unexpected and unjustified mercy of his enemy that everyone walked away from the that stretch of woods. Sasuke knew they came in violence, knew the ceasefire was over, but after the taunting he let Tobirama rescue his squad without interference. He let them continue their futile search for another half hour before the ground started slipping sideways for one, and another complained of balance problems, and Tobirama led them back to the compound. His enemy ambushed them, proved he could torment them even after they knew he was around, and then let them go.

He looks over at Touka, bringing his breath back under control, “We were at his mercy, and he _had_ mercy. He let us go.”

Touka nods, “Take the lesson and learn.” She tugs gently at his hair, “But for now why don’t you let me get the rest of this out for you?”

He can only nod and let her. He has a dozen thoughts swirling in his mind, adjustments he needs to make, but he leans into the touch as his cousins scrubs the solidified tree sap out of his hair. The water running clean over his head washes away the panic, Tobirama can think. Next time he’ll be better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umei’s Notes: Japanese has a lot of words for 'ghost', but I think the one Tobirama uses for Sasuke is initially 'obake' but that he eventually switches to 'youkai' and 'youkai-teme'.  
> Obake is more 'shapechanger, apparition' while Youkai roughly correlates to 'Entity that does not follow natural laws'.
> 
> Kraken’s Notes: Touka uses Obake because that was how Tobirama described him at first, and that is how Tobirama will think of him once he calms down. But right now Sasuke has been temporarily promoted to Youkai for not following the Natural Law of Tobirama’s Sensing is Best!


	3. Ghost Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illusions can keep us safe or lead us astray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warning: Point of view character has a flashback and dissociates at the end of this chapter. Section marked by several /// and right-justified.

“Madara, can you do a boar spear?” The inquiry is urgent, not the idle speculation about the capabilities of his Susano’o that the Outguard squads sometimes engaged in over dinner fires, and enough to shake him out of the strange dream about squirrels and owls having tea. 

“Have we checked the umbrella bags for boar spears?” a second voice cuts in before Madara can wake up from his nap enough to formulate an answer. 

“What boar?” He asks, irrevocably awake now. The makeshift camp his squad set up to cook a small meal and rest overnight is still mostly as it was when he drifted off, but Hiei and Eboshi wouldn’t be worried about boars without reason. Bebetsu was one of the new sensors to join the Ouguard in the past year, which was why they were on this patrol. 

“There’s a sow with piglets headed our way, maybe,” Bebetsu reports as they pulled a single heavy spear with cross guard out of one of the squad bags, “still a ways out but if she has our scent...” They didn’t need to elaborate: boar are notorious for being hard to catch with genjutsu and stubborn about defending their perceived territory. 

Madara nods and set to work waking the rest of the squad.

Eboshi’s hastily summoned crow returns with a troubling report that the sow in question is moving wrong, not taking her time to forage even when opportunity presents itself, instead relentlessly pressing forward in an arc that would inevitably intersect with either the Outguard squad or the Uchiha compound. Her piglets trail after her with less single-mindedness, but not enough to slow her pace. 

Hiei’s illusionary lake is ignored- if anything it makes the boars more determined to head directly towards them. Another sign that something is wrong and they shouldn’t expect the usual animal deterrents to work. 

They are all up trees when Bebetsu alerts them the boars should be coming into sight, because not even the Senju mess with a mother sow with piglets. Pride is not worth the kind of mauling they would receive with only one boar spear between them. 

The sow’s back is the first thing to come into view, peaking over a berry bush that she half tramples as she steps into the small clearing adjacent to the squad’s camp. Then she and her entourage of piglets stop, as if waiting for something. Madara stretches his own senses; he can smell the heavy, earthy presence of the wild forest pigs, hear the ripple of vegetation as the mother shifts uneasily and her brood shuffles around her. 

The squad waits, but the boars don’t move from the destroyed berry bush. 

The sense that _something is about the change_ niggles at Madara until he activates his Sharingan. The piglets move from an unruly huddle into something his mind insists is a defensive formation. 

“Guard up!” he has barely called the warning when the illusions disperse with a cloud of chakra smoke. Beside him Bebetsu curses and everyone tenses, but their training holds- Guard means guard, not attack blindly. 

When the smoke clears, the boars are gone and half an Uchiha trading caravan stands with hands raised in greeting and defense. 

“Toresue-Oji?” Madara calls, because that amount of wavey hair standing next to a woman with light brown hair is memorable even if they aren’t that closely related to him. 

Caravan Master Toresue beams, “Madara-kun, we are very glad to see you and your well armed companions!”

Madara began checking the traders over with his Sharingan, confirming their identity now that their actual chakra is visible. The Boar Illusion was an impressive bit of sneaking, and he wonders if they’d been warned of the Senju ambushes somehow. He’s confirmed Koresue and Genbai before he realizes why Bebetsu is still ready to fight: the traders have a stranger with them. All of the properly dressed Uchiha are clustered around the foreigner skulking behind his wide reed hat, the defensive formation unchanged.

Madara glances at Bebetsu, who frowns in frustration, “He’s lightning natured, and he doesn’t feel hostile, but I can’t read much beyond that.”

After checking the rest of the known trading branch members for genjutsu and confirming them free of compulsions, Madara decides to risk climbing down out of the tree to approach the group and meet their guest. 

Koresue’s arm rests firmly around the shoulders of the newcomer, protective and proprietary, “Ah! Madara-kun, let me introduce you. This is Sasuke-san, a cousin we think. Sasuke-san, this is Madara-sama, son of Tajima-sama.”

They both bow, this strange Sasuke with his water country clothing murmuring, “Madara-sama, an honor.” He then stuns the entire outguard squad by pushing back the hat of woven reeds obscuring his face. 

This stranger isn’t Izuna- he is a few years younger and his chakra is lightning instead of fire, his version of a wary posture has a tucked chin and balance ready to pivot around any sudden movements rather than spring out of the way- a dozen cues large and small that would give him away if he was trying to pass as Madara’s surviving younger brother. And yet the resemblance is uncanny, right down to the stubborn refusal to show tiredness in front of strangers despite the exhaustion at the edges of his eyes.

“I can see why you would think so,” Madara manages after a moment of staring.

Koresue looks ready to speak again, but a tiny cat pokes her head out of Sasuke’s wrapped top with an inquisitive sound. The boy scratches between her ears with two fingers and says, “No, this is a forward patrol.” The cat eyes Madara before making some inscrutable feline comment and disappearing again. 

Tarumae steps forward, her usual lazy ease shifting into the same protectiveness as her cousin Koresue, “Madara-kun, the Cat clan has confirmed that Sasuke-san is family. He traveled with us and has proved trustworthy.”

“Sasuke-san hid us all from the Senju that were hunting us and he needs to rest,” Koresue says firmly, “We hoped to share your camp for the night, Madara-kun?” It’s only a question because he didn’t expect any objection. 

Madara nods his assent and the stillness breaks. Koresue directs his squad to set up inside the rough Outguard perimeter and help with dinner. The rest of Madara’s squad comes down from the trees. Tarumae steers Sasuke to sit out of the way, and soon the young man is dozing with his head tilted back to catch the warmth of the late afternoon sun, two calico ninneko basking in his lap. The larger cat eyes anyone who approaches too closely, but the smaller one watches the watchers with the unblinking stare of the unimpressed. Madara decides to seek more information from less dangerous sources. 

Genbai retired from the Outguard a decade or more ago but still falls into easy banter as he sets out cushions and a desk of playing cards. Madara drifts close enough to hear the gossip but not so close that it would turn into an official report. “-at loose ends and wandering in Wind, and three warrior cats Taru-kun’s never seen show up and pounce on him like a long-lost kitten. He wrestled and meowed with them like he’d been doing it for years, you know how some kids do. We’d have had to be completely heartless and blind to not take him with us after that.”

Eboshi asks if he is also a Summoner, but it seems not. The Uchiha clan’s relationship with the Cats is less strict than the Crow contract, giving the Ninneko more room to exercise their judgement. And apparently none of them saw fit to inform any Cat-summoners of this clan child growing up outside the clan. Troubling.

Madara listens as Genbai starts in on the tale of their non-encounter with Senju Tobirama and his squad, and has to ask for more detail, “How did you hide if the Senju were already heading toward your location?”

Genbai sends his cards in an arc between his hands with a frustrated growl, “I’ve seen the kid plain vanish a few times before, and I thought it was just a decent genjutsu.”

“It wasn’t?” Madara presses, “What else could it be?”

Genbai shakes his head, “I know genjutsu, and what he did was weird- twisted the light itself, used a burnt tree to hide our chakra, tied it down with squiggles he drew in the dirt. Sorry Madara, I wasn’t listening too close when he explained it, more worried about the Senju you know.”

The listening squad all make small noises of agreement and Madara has to admit that there are better times and places for a technique lesson than in the middle of a stealth attempt. 

“It worked.” Genbai scowls at the memory, “I didn’t think it would, but we were maybe a hundred meters away from Tobirama and his men and they walked right past us.”

“That’s really close,” Madara isn’t the only one with doubts, but he has the rank to voice them. The boar illusion had altered the group’s chakra enough to fool Bebetsu, so a stationary version isn’t entirely impossible, but good enough to trick Senju Tobirama? Hashirama’s little brother has menaced their clan with his sensing ability for too long for such an easy victory.

“Nerve-wracking is what it was! Moku-san kept track of them, but it took the Senju forever to give up,” Genbai flipped his cards again, dropping the Rain Poet, the Swallow and the Lightning onto the empty plate in front of Madara. Not quite the entire suite of Willows, but theme of ghosts is clear enough. “Then the kid comes back and says that Tobirama is gone but he has a brilliant new plan to make our chakra feel like deer! Just in Case. Toresue was already half-convinced the kid was taught by the honorable foxes of Inari and the rest of us aren’t going to argue about it. Except I’m of the mind that even Senju get out of the way of boars,” the man’s scowl shifts as he drops the the Deer, Boar, and Curtain onto his own plate with a flourish. 

Madara imagines the squad moving on from their rest site, relentlessly pursued by illusionary deer and snorts. 

* * *

After a good night’s rest and the best tasting field breakfast his squad has ever eaten, they head out toward the compound. The Outguard squad pairs off to scout ahead and behind, while Madara remains close to the center to move wherever he might be needed.

Madara’s a little surprised that Sasuke falls into the position of rear-guard in the loose marching order of the trading branch, but when Madara steps up beside him he only nods and keeps walking, so perhaps their position is so Madara can easily keep an eye on everyone while he does his questioning. It’s thoughtful, in an odd way. 

There’s a certain rhythm in the dance of social niceties that Madara can keep up when the other person has the same music in their head or with the prompting of formal visits but Sasuke’s music is different. They walk in easy silence, the soft sounds of the caravan’s movements muffled by the sounds of the forest. 

Madara is still considering how to begin when Sasuke asks about the separation of duties between the Outguard and the Homeguard, and in the answer finds another innocuous question about the trading branch and very soon Madara finds himself neck deep in a discussion of shinobi missions as a service compared to trade in goods. They get sidetracked into the differing values of secrecy to shinobi compared to nobles or merchants, and then onto the how the idea of value itself can differ depending on where you are standing and when. Moku, Genbai, Naeba, and Taramae all get drawn into the conversation at different points, sharing their experiences to illuminate points or make jokes, and it lightens the mood of the return trip a great deal. 

Madara realizes when they are nearly back at the compound that he still needs to ask a few vital questions before he reports to his father and turns to Sasuke, who meets his look with a slight smile. “Sasuke-san, where are you from?”

“Maa, I hoped you would have heard the boring bits already, Madara-sama. Toresue-san and the others found me in Wind running away from Shukaku-" Madara must look confused because he corrects himself to, "fleeing the Ichibi, and before that I was here in the ancestral feuding grounds very briefly because of a sealing accident." 

Madara nods, but doesn't say anything, waiting. He _is_ curious about the incident but he won't allow himself to be sidetracked again.

"But before I got lost... well,” Sasuke started counting on his fingers and he slowly listed them off, “Various parts of Water... Lightning, Frost, Lightning again... a different part of Water... Tea... the Land of the Moon... a port in Wind, after that our exact route is hard to describe, some of the buffers on the far side of the desert have changed names since we were there.” he waggled his fingers before settling on four at random, “ _I_ liked the Land of Birds.... Earth not so much. Iron is strange: anyone who tells you all ports are the same is a liar with no working nose or eyes.”

Sasuke pauses to motion vaguely at his own eyes, before looking down at his weapon callouses, “The Cats assure me my _roots_ are here in Fire, of course.”

Madara sighs. Whoever he’s been traveling the world with has scrupulously avoided Fire Country and areas where the Uchiha operate since he was of age to awaken his Sharingan, the better to avoid notice. And taught him how to answer without answering. It did explain the mash of accents, if they’d been moving for a long time. 

Madara asks about teachers, he is told that it takes a village or a very unlucky lone wolf to raise orphans. He inquires about that, Sasuke informs him that sadly his entire extended family was purged when he was seven, and he was subsequently raised by strangers, who he will not identify, “Some of them saved me, and apologies but I don’t know you well enough yet to trust their lives to your discretion, Madara-sama.”

That gives Madara pause. Some of the places Sasuke listed are rife with bloodline thieves, and a child Uchiha without protection would have been a valuable prize. Even those who saved him may have just been biding their time. 

The compound doesn’t have fortress walls surrounding it, just a border loosely defined the Homeguard’s patrol routes, but no sooner have they entered what Madara considers home ground two Cats pop out of the underbrush to intertwine themselves around their legs. The grey cat scrambles up to perch on Sasuke’s shoulder and meow comments like a tour guide as they continue. 

Madara leads the trade caravan toward the Clan Hall after releasing the rest of his squad to restock and rest- Father will need to speak to Sasuke before he can join the clan. Madara has never seen this number of cats in the compound, perhaps because he is not in the habit of stopping to pet and converse with every last one. The rest of the caravan seems tolerant of this behavior, content to greet other clan members out on errands, tending to gardens, or working on projects in the warmth of the spring sunlight. 

Father is waiting for them when they arrive, and waits through Toresue’s repeated introduction with only a slightly sardonic twist to his lips. He thanks Toresue and invites Sasuke inside, motioning Madara to follow. 

Taramae and Naeba each give Sasuke encouraging pats and promises to see him soon, and the grey cat slips down from her perch with a similar meow.

Madara waits and follows, watching the stranger as his father expects. 

Sasuke stops in the genkan with one foot raised, fingers on a sandal strap as Father turns to confront him from the floor proper. The height advantage is negligible, but the message it sends is not, “Whose bastard are you?”

“I’m- Aa-” Sasuke’s foot drops but he doesn’t unbend his back, frozen and awkward at the question that he should have expected.

“Don’t try to lie to me, boy,” Father snaps, his voice and chakra full of command, “You think that face is yours by right?” Sasuke’s chakra spikes with panic as he straightens up like someone smacked his knuckles in the classroom and Father smiles. It’s a familiar smile, the one where Father is very pleased about being right. “Oh, so you did know.” 

Madara takes the two steps from the door to a spot where he can see more than the top of Sasuke’s hat hanging down his back. His face is empty and grey as a stone statue someone left standing in the genkan as a joke, but his Sharingan are whirling with three tomoe in each eye, his formerly controlled lightning chakra a bubbling pot under a heavy lid. After a long moment of blankness he regains control, his eyes deactivating and his chakra smoothing into a cool hard shell. 

Then he bows deeply to both of them, “My honorable parents have been dead since I was a child and _they were married_. I never knew my _mother’s father_ , and everyone who might have is dead too.” he rises from the bow, tone smooth and brittle as obsidian glass, “The Cats say we are kin, but I have no proof to give you but their word and my eyes.”

“We will investigate your claim. Until then you will rest in the diplomatic quarters,” Father says, and means that Sasuke will be locked up until Father can find a use for him. 

Here Sasuke slowly draws out small scroll with black stripes on each cap from his inner pocket and holds it across his outstretched hands, focused on the paper rather than on the people he is addressing to get through the story, “When I first arrived here it was by a sealing curse that sent me to an accidental grave. I did not know the person buried and could not describe them in much detail, but the corpse wore armor and weapons I hoped could be used to identify them. I was able to seal their body before I was forced to flee by the Senju and ended up in the Land of Wind by mischance. The traders I encountered and traveled with wore the same kind of coats as the corpse, so I told them. They told me that I must give this body sealing scroll to you, in your role as Head of the Outguard, Tajima-sama.”

Father eyes the scroll with his own Sharingan slowly turning before taking it, expression thoughtful. 

Madara expects to be sent to make the arrangements, but Akaishi-san is waiting with a few other Outguard when Father firmly steers Sasuke back outside and Madara can tell that his presence is not required or wanted. 

Instead he puts on his house slippers and sits next to Kita, who remained quietly sitting by the iori through that entire horrible conversation. 

Kita waits until Father and his entourage are out of range to hear before saying, “It seems you have a new cousin.”

Madara looks up from the flames to meet her eyes- Kita’s sensing has always been more acute than his own. “Do you think so?”

Kita nods. 

Madara spares a moment of pity for his wandering cousin, home at last.

* * *

The part of the diplomatic quarters Sasuke is led to has seals to block active chakra use and a sets of shackles on an adjustable chain, the better to precisely define a prisoner’s range of motion, presumably waiting for misbehavior on his part- and yet once the doors slide shut he’s apparently alone and unobserved for the first time in days. 

He curls into a ball around his knees and tries not to fall into another flashback. 

At the head’s house, the person by the hearth- just for a moment their eyes met and she’d smiled and his vision started to tunnel around that expression, that face so like Itachi... he’d never considered that his brother might also have a face-double in the warring clans era.

But Tajima yanked him back to reality and into a proper posture with the Clan Head voice that spoke directly to his spine without consulting his brain. Only Tajima is not his father, Tajima is some cruel mix of Orochimaru and the Elders, who cut with scalpels of words and implications of pain he could only hope to dodge, not fight.

Sasuke fell back on formality then, on the truths he shared with his cover story, and on the responsibility he had to the dead. Mostly he stared at the body-sealing scroll and remembered the terrible jokes he and Tenten had made as they copied out fresh sets for their squads- No one wants Shikako stuffing a body into her hammerspace for lack of other options- until his brain shuffled some less traumatized part of himself forward to mechanically observe and obey. 

“It didn’t kill me, I’ll be okay,” he whispers to the dull light coming in through the honeycombed transom. 

“That is a terrible attitude,” Inao says from surprisingly close and he startles. The tiny cat twitches her tail at him from between his feet. He thought she was confiscated along with the rest of his belongings, but _ninneko_.

“Tajima didn’t kill me as soon as he separated me from the rest of the caravan, so I owe you a fish.”

Inao hops up onto his knees and then to his shoulder, “That’s better.”

Sasuke presses his hand and cheek against her soft fur and sighs. Time to act like a ninja and explore his temporary prison housing in detail. 

The part of the building he can access is wooden fusuma and tatami- the flimsy folding screen in one corner conceals a clothes press with bedding of surprisingly high quality for a cell and a well maintained and dry chamber pot. Perhaps this place really is used by diplomats from time to time. 

He also finds an extra tatami piece just the right size to fit over the area of floor where the manacles are anchored. Sasuke doesn’t know much about Uchiha Tajima, but the more he sees the less he likes. He shoves the manacles down into their hole and fits the extra tatami into place over top with a firm pat. 

The seals that drain his chakra as soon as he does more than let it circulate passively are old enough that it might be possible to replace the panels they are painted on piece by piece without disrupting their integrity, should they need cleaning or repair. They are also magnificent works of art, covered in intricate jungles and ocean scenes with hidden creatures that appear in the negative space if you shift your perception just that little bit. Sasuke identifies them instantly as Visual Sarcasm of the highest quality. 

Still, the art gives him something to stare at as the hours pass.

He tries to meditate, but he’s built reflexes around that activity that have little to do with clearing his mind- seeing the natural energy spinning through the seals as they tug his chakra away is fascinating, but sensing people outside his prison going about their business when he shifts his focus is depressing, even if he can only sense them as blurs as the chakra echoes are pulled away faster than he can get a good look at them. 

So he finds tigers and snakes, boar and birds in the jungles and all manner of fish in the coral reefs.

**///**

**/**

**///**

He drifts and his mind pulls him into bad memories. 

_Sitting in a tatami room- with light wooden walls- or were they dark, too?_

_while the Hokage and his advisors discuss him,_

_how to tell him that his application for an apprenticeship must be denied,_

_because of politics, the clans, policies inherited and inferred_

_and his living situation goes unchanged,_

**_-alone, alone in his maze of gardens and echoes-_ **

_none of them bothering to lower their voices because he’s just a child_

_and his opinion doesn’t matter._

  
Sasuke stares while Inao claws uselessly at his sleeve. 


	4. Shoals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning signs are ignored by those who don’t know how to read them.

  
Father returns and slides the shoji open with an angry clack. He drops Sasuke’s hat onto the wood next to Kita’s basket- it holds several storage scrolls, two weapons pouches, and the strange short sword. The black-capped scroll is not there. “We will be needing a seal to test for bloodline connections, Kita-chan. And work out how to open these safely.”

“I will see what can be done, Tajima-sama.” Kita nods to Father’s retreating back.

Madara examines the weapons pouches first- a mix of shuriken, senbon, and the short kunai knives that some other clans favor in one; in the other a pair of fuuma shuriken that snap open with smooth motion and almost no sound, a few strings of smaller shuriken strung on acceptable but non-Uchiha chakra wire, and a reel of similar wire that has the character for Return shimmering faintly with residual chakra. He puts that next to the scrolls for Kita to examine. 

Next Madara picks up the tanto- the metal sings as he picks it up, accepts and extends his chakra with no actual effort or desire on his part. Thankfully the bloom of flame that shoots out is mostly absorbed by the fire prevention seals on the beams above the iori, though the paper panels on the shouji between the central room and the front receiving room scorch and shrivel before he manages to pull his chakra back and drop the sword into the sand bucket next to the hearth. 

Madara doesn’t need to see Kita’s unimpressed look to know what she thinks of his carelessness, but at least there is some amusement in her chakra, under the exasperation. He pushes himself to his feet, “I’ll see about repairing that.”

One of the Shouji is not salvageable, while the panels on the adjacent slider need to have some of their paper replaced. Madara shuffles around different shouji panels- kitchen to Kita’s bedroom to the reception room because if Father’s usual office looks anything less than pristine there will be trouble. He has to ask Kita who usually does these kind of repairs because wracking his brain only brings up the image of his uncle Niniji lecturing all of the cousins while someone in a dark coat slides a replacement panel into place. His betrothed gives him the name and directions, so he takes the worst panel and his pouch of personal funds and hopes he’ll have something left for gifts when this is done. 

The repair is arranged easily but not painlessly as Madara has to endure gentle teasing from the widowed woodworker and her eldest daughter about his lack of control and the inadvisability of showing off for his betrothed indoors. He escapes with promises of quick delivery and repair of the other damaged panels and heads back to the clan hall.

Madara spots one of Izuna’s squad and waves back, hurrying his steps. If the news was bad they wouldn’t look so cheerful. 

He arrives just in time to catch Izuna asking, “What’s this, then?” and reaching for the sand bucket. 

Madara’s tackle angle is good: neither of them end up in the hearth and the sword remains in the bucket. Izuna comparing him to a mannerless boar make him laugh and he loses the upper hand, but Midori moves the bucket away from them so it’s fine. For a moment no one is dying and losing a wrestling match to his brother feels like the best possible use of his time.

* * *

Several more cats show up and whine at him until Sasuke removes the panel over the shackles to let them in, so he spends time talking to them, which involves listening to gossip about people he hasn’t met yet. It’s a lot like the mothers meetings, but the small creatures crawling all over him vomit less and complain more. From the gossip, he pieces together that the pervasive low crunching sound is the silk worms kept by the widow’s collective and several other households, not a rogue colony of summoned fire ants coming to eat his face- 

A woman tearing off her face,

tearing off _his_ face,

his face, the perfect jewelry setting,

for his eyes, picked like-

He only grows yellow grape-tomatoes and the larger, weird-shaped red varieties in his gardens after the massacre; only eats the red cherry tomatoes in salads made by other people after Orochimaru. Golden Umeboshi are just as good in Onigiri, and he won’t have portable snacks he can share ruined by creepy old men. The yellow-red cherries are more expensive in Konoha markets, but he likes the creamy texture on his tongue, sweet and sour in natural balance. 

He misses his gardens. 

He tells the cats about finally moving into an apartment and letting the Uchiha gardens run wilder, planting tomatoes, garlic, yams, catmint and other herbs that could take care of themselves while he was busy training with his new sensei and team.

Now the cats want catmint. 

Where the cats expect him to obtain treats in his current residence, Sasuke does not know. He’s fed plain riceballs twice a day and given enough clean water to drink, always by a different person. If they keep him on this diet for very much longer he’ll have to ask the cats to scavenge leafy greens and grubs just to stay healthy, a plan sure to delight them. 

More scratching at the panel- his box is popular.

* * *

Someone makes themselves known at the outer door and Izuna gets up to see who it is rather than disturb Kita’s story time. With the Senju spooked and quiet for the past two days, he and Madara have been able to rest and relax a little, and his older brother loves listening to Kita’s stories almost as much as the children. 

He recognizes the women at the door from Father’s second round of Sharingan questioning earlier that left him with such a nasty headache that he actually retired right after dinner, but he didn’t catch their names. The quality of their kimono and the number of casual decorations in the born-Uchiha’s hair tells him Trading Branch, the rumors say they did a circuit through Wind, Earth and Waterfall before coming back to the compound. The rumors are running through the Outguard faster than a new joke- just the possibility of someone pulling a fast one on Senju Tobirama has everyone excited. Izuna has fought the watery asshole to a standstill for years, constantly pushing himself to keep up with the strides in jutsu and swordsmanship, and it just gets _him_ dragged out of bed in the middle of the night.

The shorter of the two introduces herself as Tarumae and her companion as Moku-san and makes polite small talk until Moku-san shifts her hands in some signal. Whatever it is, Tarumae’s smile does not falter, but she asks. “Would it be possible to borrow a moment of Kita-san’s time, Izuna-sama?”

Izuna’s smile is less genuine, he knows, but he came over to preserve Kita’s relaxation time. “I’m afraid Kita-chan is occupied at the moment, perhaps I can help you?”

“No, no, that wouldn’t be appropriate. We can come back tomorrow morning if that’s more convenient for-” Tarumae starts to demur when Kita appears at Izuna’s elbow. 

“Is there something?” Kita asks, and Izuna wants to growl at all of them. 

“Many apologies for bothering you, Kita-san, but we were hoping you would be willing to pass these along to Sasuke-san.” Tarumae pulls a neatly tied bundle of second-hand clothing from her shoulder bag, “What he has won’t help him fit in with the rest of the clan, I’m afraid.”

Moku stifles a laugh as Kita accepts the bundle with a quiet, “Of course.” and Izuna thinks that will be the end of it, but Kita asks if the traders will be leaving so soon, and Moku explains that they split from their usual group to visit her relatives and will be leaving soon to catch up. Normally Izuna would be interested in the gossip about the metal dust trade, but he only feels thwarted, so he nods and extracts himself to rejoin Madara at the hearth. 

His brother is in the middle of a story about a deer who transforms into a boar with the help of his magical hat to trick his enemies and accidentally gets hunted by both his allies and his enemies because his trick is too good. It’s a weird tale that he assumes to be one of Kita’s at first, but her flights of fantasy seldom include scenes like the deer hiding his friend from a white haired water demon named Sei Rama by transforming her into a tree. 

Izuna can’t escape his doppelganger even when the guy is locked up in the diplomatic quarters! He decides to go take a bath. 

* * *

Sasuke brushes his outer clothes mostly clean of fur and hangs them on the folding screen at night and for most of the second day- a plan he intends to continue until more changes or wash water is provided- only dressing fully again when he expects dinner. At least they aren’t trying to disorient him further with irregular meal times. 

Caring for his best set of traveling clothes reminds him of the less locally acceptable sets locked in his storage scrolls and he hopes that whoever manages to get them open starts with the easy stuff and can’t recognize things like a handful of zippers melted into a strange mass- the nickel and brass are decent quality, even if he can only sell it as scrap- or his roll of specialty lock & life picking tools, or his coil of self-healing rope, for what they actually are. He can only hope that any strangeness in his possessions is blamed on his obvious foreign origin. 

Still, he wishes for his tool roll, because despite the sturdy weave of the cloth in Haku’s wrapped top, wear and tear and maniac cats have not been kind to the shoulder seams and he could use this enforced idle time to reinforce them if he had his supplies. 

* * *

The bathhouse steam reminds Izuna of clashing his fire against his rival’s water jutsu and he just doesn’t want to think about that right now, so he retreats to the garden instead. His mind won’t shut up about the Stupid Boar Story. 

_Chakra Genjutsu._

It’s a specialized defense against strong sensors, and completely fucking useless unless layered with more genjutsu for every other sense at medium to close range. Still, how hard can it be if some kid without clan training can do it for a group of six at once?

Izuna conjures up Bebetsu’s description of the technique in his mind’s eye and focuses on the image of a Boar’s rudimentary chakra system and tries to work out how to shape his chakra to match it. 

It’s hard, the energy fights him, it doesn’t want to flow into the shape of a boar, and he scowls. He’s very good at Genjutsu, his first Mangekyo manifestation is the Tsukuyomi! He bears down harder, his will against the world. 

Izuna hears the thumping of footsteps on the engawa distantly, but the kids often run from being put to bed, so he doesn’t look up until he hears Kita shout his name.

Then everything goes dark.

* * *

  
The woman by the hearth had been sewing...

That smile- 

was it like his mother 

or his brother 

or Yoshino?

and how can he not _remember?_

He spots a shark in the seascape, and he remembers- Yoshino and _Zabuza_ , their strangely matching smiles. He wonders what would happen if they ever met- so much parental energy in one place could turn an academy class to stone Buddhas. 

* * *

Normally Kita would _not_ draw untested seals directly on Izuna’s skin, but she must draw out the nature-energy before it settles. Izuna may sometimes be annoying but she prefers him alive and complaining to decorating the garden as a rock. She blocks out the sounds of Benten’s worried queries and Madara keeping the space around Izuna clear so she can work. 

The fanged bat is far from the most elegant seal she’s ever drawn, but it does the job of drawing out the nature chakra that hasn’t mixed with Izuna’s own while she hastily constructs a filter- a net across the river of chakra. Again not the most elegant, but she has to bite her lip to stay composed until it starts to work. Izuna is unconscious and unmoving under her Time Out seal and will remain so until she releases him- and Kita is tempted to leave him out for a while but he wouldn’t suffer for his stupidity that way. How dare he. 

Madara has sent Benten and Midori back inside, but Tajima is not an easier audience when she can spare a moment’s attention from the seals. “I felt him taking in foreign energy and start to change,” she doesn’t explain further, she doesn’t need to.

Tajima frowns but doesn’t push, instead waiting on the engawa. 

The net-bat seal combination pulls out the nature chakra and a good chunk of Izuna’s own because it’s far from perfect, but once she can no longer feel anything but what should be there running through his system, she pulls off all of the seals in quick succession. They wait for the Time Out to fade. 

Izuna opens his eyes and opens his mouth, sitting up with a jerk- Kita throws herself on him and lets the emotions roar up along with the tears she held back before. It stops whatever stupid justification he might have. “Kita-chan?” he manages after a wave of tears passes.

“What were you thinking?!” she wails at him, letting the delayed terror in her chakra beat against him like waves on big dumb rocks, “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

Izuna gapes at her, still completely at sea. 

“That wasn’t your chakra, that was nature chakra,” she gets out between sniffles, “It could have killed you! How could you be so careless with your life?” Another sob rises and she lets it out. This was almost another death right in front of her. And for _what?_

It shouldn’t be possible for Izuna to look much paler than he is, but he manages- the fight drains from his eyes and he slumps forward to hug her, one hand coming up to rub her back as he mumbles an apology.

She’ll get a better one later, because this is far from over. She’s past his defenses now and she’ll hammer the point home. “Why?”

Izuna shakes his head, helpless to justify such blatant experimenting in the garden without a spotter, “I... have no excuse. I won’t do it again, I promise! Kita-chan, I swear I’ll be careful.”

Kita stares at him with Doubt in every line of her face and then rises, wrapping herself in Madara’s arms instead.

Izuna wilts. 

* * *

Sasuke sticks one foot through the shackle hole, pressing heel and toes against the cool stone of the foundation. He twitches a link of metal out of the way before shifting he weight and finding balance on that one foot and rooting himself in place- like this, he can hear the Song in his bones clearly and feels, if not _at_ ease at least like he can see ease in the middle distance. Sasuke smiles and starts to sing softly without care to words, just the melody rising through him like the plants springing up in the Garden after years of drought and theft. 

Inao and Denka perk up from their sprawl to listen. He has to wave his arms a few times to preserve his balance as more Cats come up through the hole and shove his supporting foot against the chain bolt and he has to shift it back- it’s good practice to have to balance without chakra enhancement, so he just keeps singing and doesn’t scold. 

Eventually the cats join in the song, purring basso or mewling counterpoint. It’s not a concert he’d inflict on friends, except maybe Tarumae, yet Sasuke feels better than he has since he got shoved in this dark box however long ago. 

So long as he can imagine he’s standing on the turning earth and the box is just forests and seas between him and the stars tugging upward, the Song doesn’t dim and he doesn’t feel his chakra draining. Around him the seals keep spinning, but slower than when he was first shoved in, as if losing their charge rather than taking strength from the chakra they drain. Kako would not be impressed.

He turns a dancer’s twirl on the ball of his foot and smiles. The sun has set and the moon has yet to rise, but the stars are dancing. He hears music starting up not far away and laughs- oh, the closer stars are dancing too! 

* * *

Madara hears his father sentence Izuna to a month of scut work before dismissing him- Father is Disappointed, but Madara is smouldering with rage at his little brother’s thoughtlessness. Kita let him escort her back to her room and comfort her with hugs and his presence, but he still feels helpless and out of sorts. 

He tucks Benten in next to Kita before he finds a cat and asks for directions to Tarumae. The cat stares at him for a interminable moment before she leads him to a large dwelling in the third circle of residential homes. Koresue answers when he knocks, but invites him inside with a wave. It seems the entire half-caravan is staying in one house rather than open up several for the few days they intend to stay, so after he trades his sandals for guest slippers he’s led to a circle including everyone, even Naeba, sharing a bottle of berry wine from Grass. 

“Madara-nii, come sit,” Naeba-kun beckons to him, “How’re your hawks?”

He sits and tells her about his latest hunt- just today he was able to sneak in a few hours with his beloved birds. Moku-oba pours him a small cup of the wine and he accepts it with a grateful nod. 

The wine is sweet when he takes a sip, grounding him in the current moment. Genbai is the one who asks after his betrothed, a sly smile tugging at his lips, but Madara can’t help the answering grin that he knows is lighting his own face. Izuna’s foolishness sours the joy that he wants to report- complaining about his brother’s idiocy in upsetting Kita helps. Moku-oba is quite sympathetic- it seems her youngest brother has been quite foolish of late as well: at least Izuna hasn’t eloped with a girl from a clan of puppeteers! 

Eventually Madara remembers his manners and asks what should have been the first questions, how things have been since he parted with them a few days ago, where they plan to go next, greetings for those they’ll meet up with. No one chastises him for his awkwardness, his cousins know him and make allowances when he forgets the steps of the social dance. His shoulders slowly relax and the muscles twinge with a good sort of pain as the tension bleeds away. Since the end of the Daimyo’s cease fire he’s been on edge, unable to really relax, but for a moment he’s safe to feel and speak as he wishes. 

His attempts to re-create tiny butterflies in the hearth fire under Toresue’s directions fail completely, so Naeba suggests they “go big” with a giggle. Five minutes to move the snacks and other necessaries to the closest sparring ground and Madara’s butterflies are the size of bushes but they’re moving, almost in time to the playful tune of Moku-oba’s dizi.

Soon others come out to join them, bringing more food and drinks and songs, until it’s a spontaneous party and Madara’s catching a fire-hawk on his wrist like a real bird before letting her puff into smoke and joyful after-images. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Madara: oops, hands off then  
> Izuna: How hard can it be?  
> Kita: Idiots!


	5. Oasis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's due to the dead is to go on living

On the third day in the box Sasuke’s breakfast arrives early, and a tight-lipped warning that he should prepare himself. What he should prepare for is left unspecified, and that does not make him less tense as he eats. The cat collective is convinced that he’s not being led to an execution, but beyond that they seem more interested in grooming than talking this early in the day. 

Such is the way of cats: he doesn’t take it personally. 

He tries to clean up but one of his nails tears and he sucks on it until the bleeding stops. 

Blood. 

but blood and betrayal are old worn terrors of his mind,

like the callous on his left thumb from Sensei’s sword. 

The less said about the Cats helping with freshening up, the better. 

When Tajima shows up shortly before dinner time with a knife and a seal and not even a greeting before he demands Sasuke bleed on command, Sasuke takes it personally. 

But he can’t afford to put up a fight right now either, so he submits to stepping out into the short hall, cutting his finger on the knife in Tajima’s hand and dripping the blood onto the seal inked with a family tree. Thankfully the bloodline seal has a low level of specificity- Amaterasu’s Sun and Mirror appears over the Mother Kanji and nothing appears over the Father Kanji. Tajima is not precisely happy, but Sasuke gets the feeling that happiness for the Outguard head entails a lot of trouble for others, so he will hang tentative hope on Tajima not being actively enraged. 

Tajima ruins that hope by grabbing the back of his neck and dragging him across the small hallway, through an airy room lined with light reflecting shouji and onto a lovely engawa bright with sunlight: to face a crowd of unhappy Uchiha faces, including Madara and Izuna to center-left. The pressure on his neck forces him down and it’s easier to just kneel on the wooden engawa than fight whatever Tajima has planned. Tajima must have lowered the seals for the bloodline seal to work, so if he just holds still and lets chakra pool in his legs, he should be able to launch into a shunshin and escape if the Cats are wrong. 

* * *

Izuna rolls his eyes at his brother’s impatience- they and most of the Outguard not on missions filed from the cremation of Naka Two Swords body to the Diplomatic quarters’ garden and waited for only a few minutes before Madara started shifting from foot to foot. “Relax, it’s not like father would let him out if he were a threat.”

Madara cuts a glance his way, “I’m not worried for myself.”

Izuna hangs his head and tries to come up with some new way to express how sorry he is, but Father emerges from the viewing box with the interloper so he cuts himself off- Madara isn’t listening anyway.

The new boy does look a bit like him, but his hair is too short, his eyes aren’t the right shade of black, he has a small scar marring the end of his left eyebrow, he drops into seiza with no grace whatsoever, and his chakra is utterly and completely wrong. Overall, Izuna is offended that everyone insists on comparing them.

Father begins with, “This is Uchiha Sasuke, who is from so many places he has a hard time remembering them all- no doubt that’s what his mother told him about his father.”

This Supposed Uchiha goes from hunched over and staring out at the crowd of Outguard with a dopey expression and chakra spilling lazily in puddles around his legs to sitting up straight with his chakra properly pulled back under his skin. Unfortunately it doesn’t make up for the fact that he and his clothing are both covered in clumps of cat hair- not a very respectful way to present yourself to the Outguard if you have any ambition to join. And with no family to sponsor him in a craft apprenticeship, he should be trying to make a better impression. 

“One of my uncles was responsible for his mother, but I will take responsibility that no more strays result from that lapse, nor any confusion in the succession of the Amaterasu Lineage,” Father continues after letting his introduction sink in. 

Izuna expects some sort of shock from the gathered Outguard, but rumors have spread like fire about the face-theif’s resemblance and affinity for unique genjutsu. He’s mad about this, will be mad about it as long as he wants in the privacy of his own mind- they are too busy to deal with a complication like this right now. And if Father intends to take responsibility that would mean living in the same house as his doppelganger!

Father’s voice rolls on, implacable, “My son Madara and his betrothed are moving well through their courtship and until they have children in a few years, both Izuna and my sister’s legitimate child remain their heirs. ”

Beside him, Madara is as red as a ripe persimmon and Izuna carefully shifts his weight until he can bump into his shoulder- Madara startles and has to shuffle to catch his balance, but he’s back in the present. _Ha._ Even Madara can’t radiate rage on Kita's behalf while this embarrassed. 

“This lapse in sound judgment must not be repeated, your squad mentors all know about proper preventative techniques! It is your responsibility to ensure this sort of mistake does not repeat itself.”

Izuna cannot believe Father is really lecturing the entire Outguard about _contraception_ like they don’t have squad mentors to do it. Did he miss some sort of briefing earlier about keeping an eye on the face-thief in case of infiltration? Was this speech a cover for a genjutsu that he’d been left out of as part of his punishment, no longer trusted with the real details?

“-to ensure that everyone in need of these techniques in fully aware and capable of using them, do I?”

Izuna listens with half an ear as Father continues to lecture about bloodline theft and their responsibility to prevent it- it’s a solemn duty and the periodic revenge missions into water country haunt those who undertake them- but one of the results of failure is sitting like a stone lantern next to Father. A bright spark of anger burns in the doppelganger’s chakra, but it’s contained and controlled, his expression falling into an expression of neutral boredom as he looks out over the Outguard. 

Izuna doesn’t trust him an inch. 

* * *

  
After Tajima finishes scolding the clan about proper sexual practices, he lifts a hand as if to drag Sasuke somewhere else, but stops and waits when an older man steps out of the crowd at the head of a small delegation. 

Sasuke slips down off the engawa to not tower over the elder and tries not to let hope of reprieve from Tajima and the Box show too clearly- but he’s pretty sure he’s failing.

Master Armorer Ishihara introduces himself as an Elder representative of those without lineage, and Sasuke returns the greeting as best he can. Ishihara and his entourage are here to thank him for returning the body and effects of Naka Two-Swords and invite him to her memorial that evening. 

Sasuke’s first instinct is to minimize his role, but he can see that Elder Ishihara and the people behind him are not asking him out of empty politeness, “I would be honored, but-” he temporizes, glancing at Tajima. 

The Outguard head is hiding his scowl, instead scanning the crowd for someone, “Tsuyoshi,” he motions toward Sasuke with a specific set of his face that the man must understand as Guard, because that is what he does. Tajima excuses himself, so Sasuke assumes that he has permission.

Ishihara starts to introduce the rest of the group, but Sasuke finds himself being crushed in a hug by a short man with a lot of strength in his arms and core. Sasuke lets it happen because the man’s chakra is raw with a lot of things but nothing hostile.

“Thank you! Sasuke-san,” the man says as he lifts Sasuke off his feet, beaming, “for bringing my wife back.” He’s set down but not released, instead held at arms length for closer examination. “Please come celebrate her life with us so that she can rest easy in the next life!” The request is so heartfelt Sasuke can feel the sincerity beaming at him from the man’s soul. 

“I would love to, Uchiha-san...?” Sasuke is firm on his intent of acceptance, but pushes a little _who are you?_ out with his own chakra because he would like to know the names of those who manhandle him. The man’s face and hands show signs of plenty of outdoor work, his mofuku’s curves fall wrong on his shoulders and hips- borrowed- and under all the emotions his chakra feels like a crackling grass fire in the fields paired with the scent of fresh matcha, but that’s still not a _name_.

“Call me Haruto, Sasuke-san,” the smile turns a little less blinding, as the grip on his upper arms finally eases, “we’re all Uchiha here, that would get confusing.”

He can’t argue with that- Elder Ishihara has completely lost control of the introductions and the only one other name he catches for sure is Sakuya, Haruto’s daughter. She’s wearing the obi with the cherries, it’s an easy association to make. 

He’s half led, half herded well away from the diplomatic prison, past the circle of well appointed houses where Madara -the signature that he can most easily identify in the crowd of fiery chakra- is headed, and past the second ring of housing, out toward fields of growing food, the lingering scent of charcoal smoke and an increase in the background sound of munching caterpillars. 

They arrive at a double-gabled farmhouse in this Crafting-Farming district with another crowd of people setting up tables and filling those tables with covered dishes that smell delicious.

“Real food,” Sasuke blurts, which is enough of a non-sequitur to make a few of the people around him laugh. Sakuya leads him by the sleeve toward the food, introducing him to one the older women- Tatsu-oba- and starts explaining why he should get to sneak some food before dinner starts. He tries to intervene, “It’s fine, I just missed fresh greens while I was waiting to be let out. I can wait.”

Tatsu-oba scoffs and fills his hands with a pair of steamed buns stuffed with a mix of spring vegetables and with just a hint of something smoked- delicious. He’s trying to express his gratitude by facial expression and finish chewing the first bite so he can actually thank her and so he almost slips into Startled Ninja Stabbing when Sakuya yanks him by the sleeve- he manages to turn the instinct to reach for weapons he isn’t carrying into a fumble and snatch: dropping the second bite of this bun would be a crime. He tries not to think too hard about how unarmed he is, surrounded by a few hundred ninja and several hundred more fire-chakra specialists. 

Sakuya pulls him towards a knot of children old enough to be only mildly supervised. Sasuke doesn’t even get more than a moment to take in their faces, much less names, before Sakuya rallies them to the cause of Fresh Greens and they disperse to forage- he wonders briefly if this is what it is like to genin minions. Probably not: he doesn’t remember Team Seven being this eager to pull weeds unless the Pack was nipping at their heels. 

He eats his buns and greets two new cats with ear scratches but none of his very vegetarian buns. One drapes himself around Sasuke’s shoulders like a scarf anyway, content to join in watching as more people arrive from the mortifying lecture. The cat perks up at a trio carrying a pair of swords and a freshly cleaned and folded coat, all looking around with a particular intent Sasuke recognizes. He pushes away from the fence post and ambles toward them- best to make this easy. 

“Sasuke-san!” one of the sword-bearers spots him, and a few moments later he’s staring at the top of three heads. 

“You honor me too much,” he tells them in his best Haku-being-modest impression. Really, they are, but he knows that sarcasm will get him nowhere here. 

They introduce themselves as Naka Two Sword’s old squad mates, and they want him to present the ashes to her husband- Nagi, the oldest, holds out the same black-capped scroll, opened and resealed by someone with excellent control. Sasuke must look confused, because Nagi explains that the formal Outguard cremation had been held directly prior to the infamous lecture, but Sannosawa-sensei was gracious enough to reseal the ashes into the original scroll at their request. “We couldn’t recover her body ourselves, and only owe her safe return to you caring enough to get her out. It wouldn’t be right for us to carry her the last few steps when you carried her so far.”

Sasuke takes the scroll and falls into step, if he can make these people happy with a little thing then he sees no reason not to. 

The inside of the farmhouse is just as busy as the outside indicates, but things pause and reorganize when Nagi clears his throat. Haruto and an older woman with a stronger-than-clan resemblance to Sakuya take their places on the raised floor opposite the door while the others in attendance move to either side to clear a path. Sasuke follows the others as they slowly step forward, taking his place to the left as they spread into a line and then step forward one by one to present each sword and then the coat 

Haruto and his mother in law accept the personal effects with bows and barely restrained emotion, but when he tries to present the scroll of ashes the same way the mother-in-law motions for him to wait, and a young teen comes scurrying up with an urn. So he unseals the scroll carefully and pours the ashes in using the paper as a funnel, and hands the urn over instead, “We had a lot of adventures with her in there, I’m sure she’d glad to be home.”

Naka’s mother beams at him over the urn, and Haruto pulls him in for his second rib bruising hug of the day. Once that’s done and the urn taken back by the teen, it seems they’re skipping straight to the food.

Haruto has a hold on his sleeve like he might get washed away by the flood of people, and steers him towards a central spot on the raised floor with the other high ranked family and honored guests. Sasuke is done fighting the special treatment this evening -so long as no one tries to marry him- so he sits. 

The children immediately descend with fresh foraged offerings. He asks each child their name and what they’ve brought as he washes, shreds, chops, slices, peels, and chakra-roasts a handful of nuts to make himself a truly delicious mixed salad. None of the children leave through the whole process, and Sasuke assumes that they’re waiting for him to take a bite until the one of the youngest pipes up to ask if people in Water country don’t have kitchens, and that’s why he’s using chakra instead. 

Sasuke explains that they do, but his pack with everything in it is stowed away for a little while, so he has to improvise. 

This passes muster, it being understood that keeping a kitchen in your other bag is an easy mistake to make- Sasuke wants one of the umbrella bags so badly it hurts. He makes an exaggerated pleased expression at the first few bites, and most of the children wander off. Sakuya plants herself between him and her father, and he finds he doesn’t mind. He’s had far worse dinner companions than a bright ten year old who isn’t intimidated by weird clothes or chakra knives.

The salad is good, but not overly large, and he’s about halfway through it and Sakuya’s first round of questions when a bowl of savory soup with chicken and mushrooms and some rice finds its way to him. It tides him through the first of several rounds of tributes to Naka Two Swords, as famous for her over the top personality as her eponymous two blades. Apparently Naka is such a common name in the clan at this point that every Naka has a title by default, though few mentioned are as cool as Two Swords. 

A platter loaded with several kinds of steamed buns arrives in front of him via one of the anonymous aunts as Tsuyoshi stands to recite some of Naka’s favorite play, and wonder of wonders, it’s one that Sasuke actually recognizes. Stories about a small band of warriors fighting off bands of pirates while dealing with unrequited love never really go out of style, after all. It was popular to put on during Founding Week for the speech about unity of purpose the main character makes during the training montage dance. 

The scene Tsuyoshi recites from is the warrior’s departure, when one of the survivors talks about the fallen comrade they buried in the village and asks the villagers to care for their spirit, and it is the cue for half of those present to start sniffling. There’s no sign of the Uchiha stoic mask anywhere as he sets down his soup and takes it in. The shinobi-crafter pair across the table reaching out to hold each other steady against the emotional words, one of the older men further down reaching out to hold his partner’s hand and lean against his shoulder, one of the older children dropping down to hug a sibling- but none of that support is to stop the tears, just to be with the person crying. It’s honest and kind in a way he’s never seen his clan, and it’s humbling. He’s not sure how to be in the midst of such emotion, so he listens to Tsuyoshi keep going through a thickening voice, using the words of a fictional warrior but talking about his cousin. 

Tsuyoshi reaches the end of his words but doesn’t include the new village head’s reply. No one answers him or speaks for a long moment, so Sasuke’s words fall into a near silence of quiet tears and hiccups, “As the gift of hope was given to us, we will light it anew each day; to honor the sacrifice and the life of one so loved. If you are ever lost in the dark, look for the fires we tend here and be welcome. This is our promise, our oath.” 

The unexpected response lights a fire in Tsuyoshi’s eyes and he motions for Sasuke to stand up as he skips back an act to the scene before the third act opens, when a lot of strained metaphors remind the audience that the lovelorn in plays cannot spit it out until someone is wounded past the point of no return. Promises of eternal protection, however, are fair game at any point. Sasuke isn’t sure why they are doing this particular bit, or why Sasuke is the one stuck alternating between the Second and the Archer when Tsuyoshi initiated a scene with three parts- until he realizes how the exchange ends:

“And if there are too many, then what will you do?” Sasuke asks in voice of the ever-doubting second in command. 

“Let them come, I have two swords!” Tsuyoshi declares, to general laughter and a little cheer. The smile he gives Sasuke for playing along is pure theatre nerd glee but the looks from some of the others change from respect for a guest to approval and welcome. Sasuke sits quickly, but he feels now like he’s sitting with his clan as one of them. For the first time in years. He channels a touch of yin chakra and takes in the dozens upon dozens of sparks of fiery chakra in and around the compound, the bright and dim stars in beautiful constellations all around him. 

“That was great, kaachan would have loved it! Do you like theater too, Sasuke-senpai?” Sakuya asks, voice bright despite the tear tracks on her face. 

The fierce love mixed with the grief radiating from most of the people around them is overwhelming. He can’t- Sasuke sucks in a breath against the sudden constriction on in lungs and throat, but the exhale is a half sob he has no control over. He starts to curl up, his arm coming up to hide his face in a reaction so ingrained he doesn’t even think about it- but Sakuya latches onto his side like a warm limpet and doesn’t let go, and it’s easier to drop his arm and hug her back, an anchor against the stars. 

They get many more hugs, from Haruto and various other adults, like they are a unit to be hugged as one, until they both manage to calm down at the same time instead of drawing each other back down into the mess of emotions. That takes a little while, but no one tries to rush them. The general sense of grief is fading from the massed chakra along with the main dinner courses, replaced with a larger feeling of celebration, the fierce determination to keep living, and it draws them along in its wake. There is mochi- it’s really tasty.

Sakuya quietly asks if he knows the rest of the play? Can he help with a Properly Glorious reenactment of the fight with the pirate lord? 

Sasuke says yes of course, but it will have to be outside. 

He goes a little overboard with the practical effects, but it’s his chakra to waste on a properly rocking earthen ship stage and a cloud of mist to hide in while the hero frees the hostages- Sakuya lends him some wire so he can make a properly dramatic swinging entrance using the earth pillar he raised as a mast. His translucent ice-blade is not quite as large as Zabuza’s head chopper but similar in scale for wooshing as he trades threats with Tsuyoshi and shatters into satisfying sparkles at the climax of the scene. 

The rest of the Uchiha absolutely love it. Sasuke makes a note to do something deniable but nice for Kankurou when he gets home. 

Dusk falling and the children getting put into a pile to sleep coincides with the alcohol coming out, unsurprisingly. Sasuke finds a seat on the ground near the bonfire and feels Tsuyoshi settle in a short lunge away, watching with a mix of emotions like tangled strings- wariness, curiosity, guilt, warmth- Sasuke’s not actively channeling to his star crystal but he still feels like his senses are singing. The crow on the house’s ridge is not as subtle as it likes to think, but he isn’t doing anything wrong- let Tajima double-down on his spying if he must. 

The stories are great, he has to infer a lot but he also learns some things about how the clan works. He takes one drink from the bottles being passed and then abstains, savoring the warm burn but knowing more than a nip will just send him spiraling again unless he uses chakra to burn it out, and he’s already had enough of that for the week. 

Tsugi-something is telling a story about a young Naka trying to keep both of her swords out while traversing a muddy trail, and the deadly flailing involved, when first one then several others call variations on “Just show us” and when Sasuke looks up from petting the latest cat he sees a teenage girl with a sword in each hand trying to keep her footing in slippery mud take out a sapling with one blade and then fall on her ass anyway. 

Everyone roars with laughter as the image fades and Sasuke’s eyes catch on the whirling red pair of Sharingan that had laid the light genjutsu over him, then on others in the crowd, a double handful against the majority still shades of black, but it’s too many. 

He’s used to one.

Claws dig into his leg, so he doesn’t fall into the worst memories, but he has to focus on his breathing to not hyper-ventilate. 

In, Out, feel the flow of life, bugs in the bean fields, sap in the trees, chickens in their coop, Out, In, Eight Uchiha with that variation in their chakra that indicates an active Sharingan within combat range- 

In, Out, IN, OUT. Cat’s fur. 

“Time to go, hmm?” Tsuyoshi’s voice is gentle in his ear, like calming a frightened fawn, “Enough excitement for one night, I think.”

Sasuke opens his eyes again and all the Sharingan have gone out. He breathes in and nods. 

Tsuyoshi gives him a hand up, but their progress toward leaving is impeded by hugs and leftovers pressed on him with smiles and kind words. He holds the warmth against his heart like it might heal the scars there. 


	6. Fata Morgana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasuke arrives at the Clan Hall- while this is an improvement over the isolation of the box, new challenges and challengers abound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fata Morgana is a kind of stacked, overlapping and shifting optical illusion; it can make an object appear very different from what it actually is, or make a cliff seem to be floating in the air like a fairy castle.

Tsuyoshi leads him back to the diplomatic box, but it’s not unkindly-the outer layer of seals are still down, and he unlocks the stone-floored room and leads Sasuke through to a room with a piped water, a sink and toilet. He even lets Sasuke draw the curtain so he can have a proper wash in private- the water is cool but summoning up a little fire chakra to maintain his body temperature is easy outside of the inner box. Even better, there’s a fresh towel and yukata waiting when he’s done, and Sasuke is ready to forgive Tsuyoshi whatever sins made Tajima like him.

He folds his other clothes over one arm and follows Tsuyoshi back to the inner Box and the waiting cats. Someone changed the bedding while he was out, the new stuff smells like a slightly different combination of herbs, but not unpleasant.

Sasuke wakes before dawn to the sound of a summer rainstorm arriving and several more cats scrambling up through the hole in the floor to join the pile. He shifts the cat on his head so he can better hear the water pounding the roof and the wind rattling the bushes in the garden. For a minute he can almost forget he’s stuck in the wrong time and pretend he’s at Kakashi’s place and buried in dogs after a close call makes his sensei’s over protective streak turn on him instead of Shikako. It’s a nice daydream, so he lets his mind linger in it.

He knows Tajima is coming before the seals go down this time because the cats all jump on him, shed yet more fur all over his re-donned clothes, and then leave. Tajima has a bowl of rice with him, garnished with a single long slice of pickled radish in a unprecedented show of largesse, as if he somehow isn’t aware of the boxes of leftovers Sasuke was laden down with last night. Sasuke accepts the bowl with the good grace of someone who already had a nice breakfast of several leftover dumplings stuffed with smoked mackerel, cabbage, and miso.

“No water?”

Tajima scowls with his eyes for all that his mouth pulls into a smile, “There should still be some tea left if we go now.”

Sasuke nods, “Should I bring this bedding or leave it here?”

“Bring it, you can wash and return it later.”

A few moments later Sasuke is following Tajima with his new futon folded into a neat package in one arm, the bento from last night in the other, still covered in cat fur but with his chin up as they retrace the distance between the box and the clan hall. Hard to believe it’s only been three days and nights, it seems like a month of nightmares at least, except last night. The rain has cleared off but left the world freshly washed of dust, lightly sparkling where the water has yet to evaporate. It’s nice to be outside to see it.

He assumes that Tajima has more questions for him and wants to be comfortable during the interrogation before depositing him with new watchers. The man takes him inside- past the genkan, where Sasuke successfully trades his sandals for guest slippers this time- but instead of leading him to an office, he calls to the woman by the fire. Sasuke quickly focuses on everything but her face.

Kita is wearing a pale green kimono decorated with several kinds of wildflowers and an obi of bright fruits, all high quality and tasteful while conveying a sense of cheeriness Sasuke appreciates - Itachi would never have picked something so nice for himself, nor worn it so well if their mother laid it out.

Her use of the fan to shield her lower face as she replies to Tajima reminds him of Ino when she’s bringing her mission face to game night. It hides the smile that cracked his focus last time, _so_ he is grateful for it, he will bring them back into fashion when he gets home by buying every girl he knows a pair.

Sasuke has to focus on Kita specifically to get a sense of her because she keeps her chakra very close without outright hiding, her control never flickering. He’s reminded of a hearth fire surrounded by warm beach sand. He can’t imagine anything less like the cold fires and pitted iron of Itachi’s energy the last time he’d spied the man.

Tajima finally leaves and Sasuke can’t avoid bowing and introducing himself, trying to loosen his shoulders from the knots they’ve worked themselves into. He mentally reviews Tajima and Kita’s conversation, but he doesn’t get any sense from their words what’s expected of him, just that Sasuke is Kita’s responsibility now. Kita gives him a sympathetic look and pours a second cup of tea. He sits and takes it with a quiet, “Thank you.”

“Tajima-sama has asked me to help you settle in,” Kita says after letting him take a few sips of the tea- it’s good, calming. Her words are not. She is not dressed for a day out of doors giving him a tour of the compound before leading him to Toresue’s home or some guard’s barracks; she’s dressed for a day in the house, maybe stepping out into the garden later if the puddles from this morning’s rain dry up.

“Ah,” he replies, because his brain is trying to crawl out his ears and he needs it to stay put and find an exit strategy for all of him. He finishes his tea with nothing more intelligent to add.

“Let me show you the house,” Kita says softly even as she rises, leading him to one of the closed shoji doors, “You’ll be sharing this room with Izuna and Madara.” The room is a decent size, but split into unequal halves by seals keyed against his presence painted on the overhead beams- he can dimly feel them tugging at him, even if he can’t afford to focus on them right now. The larger side of the room is decorated with a calligraphy scroll and a silk hanging that may have started life as a coat lining, armor and weapon racks, shelves of scrolls and other odds and ends, and a double large futon folded up for later airing. “Izuna asked that you be restricted to one side of the room for now. Hopefully the seals will keep down the noise level when they get called at night- as members of the Outguard Izuna and Madara can be summoned unexpectedly in emergencies, but you aren’t expected to do anything when that happens except stay out of the way. If that changes, you’ll know well in advance.”

The smaller side, his side, has a roll of indigo and undyed linen clothing sitting on a wobbling looking shelf unit and nothing else. “Tarumae-san and Moku-san brought over some things for you,” Kita explains. It makes sense- Moku was concerned about his ability to fit in once they left continue their circuit while Tarumae insisted he call her senpai because of their mutual cat connection- and he’d left almost all of his Uchiha-indigo clothes in Konoha when he went to Mist.

Sasuke puts his bundle of bedding and bento down next to the gifted clothes and wonders where his storage scrolls went to- there isn’t a lot he can pull out and use freely in this time, but there are _some_ things that haven’t changed in a hundred years. He takes a breath and looks up to ask, but something in Kita’s face makes him swallow the question back down. Better to wait and see what is offered first.

They continue the tour, Kita pointing out her room -layered with enough of Madara’s lingering chakra to make it clear where he normally sleeps despite nominally sharing with Izuna- Tajima’s bedroom, the receiving room where Tajima normally brings his desk to work, the small room where Kita’s sister Midori and Madara’s cousin Benten sleep, the firmly locked records room, and the kitchen. The bath house connected across the back engawa that looks like it can be entirely enclosed in winter. Laundry, meals, bathing rotas and timings- he settles himself in to absorb the information as Kita points and explains from beside him, not forcing him to look her in the face more than a two or three times during the entire process.

Another difference between her and Itachi, who has never tried to make anything easier for Sasuke  _in his life._

They’re winding up with the practical aspects of life in Tajima’s new prison for him when the door to the engawa clacks open and two girls come swarming in. The older is nine or ten and the younger about six, and they have deliveries and pressing news for Kita. Sasuke’s tension melts as he listens to them report about quail and coats and someone’s cute new baby, so when they settle enough to notice him and be introduced he can offer a real smile.

Benten’s eyes sharpen as she Kita says his name, “Are you the one who can turn people into trees? and boars? Madara-nii told us the story with a deer but Hidaka-nii said that was actually you. Where’s your hat that transforms people?”

“That was me, but those were just good disguises, not real transformations. Transforming other people is really hard to do right and even harder to fix, so it’s not something to do lightly, and only with permission,” he replies, amused at being the deer in a thinly veiled story for once, adding, “And I’m not sure where my hat got too, Tajima-sama borrowed it a few days ago to use as a basket and I haven’t seen it since,” as an afterthought.

Benten nods as she processes his answer, but it’s Midori who asks what his hat looks like, in case they run across it while cleaning. He describes it, has to explain the reeds aren’t dyed but naturally have a color pattern, and then has to explain further they aren’t local reeds. He doesn’t  _have_ to trace the Kanji combination for Endemic for Midori or break the word into digestible concepts for a six year old who has never left the clan compound for Benten, but Kita doesn’t stop him or try to direct the conversation elsewhere, so he sees no reason not to keep answering until they run out of questions or lunchtime looms. He finds his accent wandering a bit as he reaches for words that Haku never used in front of him, but forges on anyway. 

His waterproof hat made from reeds that only grow in coastal areas is interesting- that it has a natural blue on gold pattern that grows more vibrant the longer the reeds are exposed to the sun is fascinating to Midori because she likes plants and to Benten for mysterious reasons possibly relating to it’s potential uses as a pretty basket or prop in a game. Midori wants to know more about plants that grow by the shore; he gives up what he knows from Yoro and Shiku’s foraging lessons easily enough, the details of noble garden layouts in Water and Tea he brushes over. Benten is really not interested in noble gardens, so Midori lets him off the hook after he tells her about lightning waxberries.

When the girls head off to turn dusting into a competitive hat hunt, Kita graces him with a fond look that wouldn’t be out of place at one of the Mothers Meetings and he manages a weak smile in return. Itachi would sometimes smile like that...

“After lunch, Sannosawa-sensei will come by to test your reading and writing proficiency, but until then you can rest in your room if you like.”

He takes the offered retreat with a quiet, “Thank you, Kita-san.”

* * *

Light creeping across the room as Sasuke waits

waiting for his best friend and his Sensei to wake,

waiting for a healer who can help them.

Wondering why he can wake up without help

**Can he wake up without help?**

but they can’t.

They won’t.

“I don’t think this place is any better than the box- at least the box has art.” Inao complains as she drops from the rafters onto his lap with barely a sound.

Sasuke lifts a hand to scratch her ears automatically, “Now Princess, we mustn’t complain about our accommodations when the hostess has been so kind. Must instead wait for them to be ass-holes and be specific in our complaints.”

The kitten pressing into his hand is not interested in his lecture on social niceties- “Am I Princess?” she chirps. Before he can answer she says, “I am! I am Princess! Call me Hime-chan, Sasuke-taii!”

Sasuke chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead, “As you wish, Hime-chan.”

Her tiny kitten body shouldn’t be able to fill the whole room with rumbly purrs, but cats care not for the laws of physics.

Sasuke’s mental Tenzou thinks he should wash and change clothes, even if there isn’t time for a bath before lunch. He stirs from petting Hime and sorts through the clothes Tarumae donated to the cause, taking comfort in the familiar ritual of wrapping indigo sleeves and trouser legs with fireproof strips. This much at least hasn’t changed.

* * *

After a tense lunch bouncing between listening to Benten list all the places his hat certainly was _not_ and deflecting Tajima’s sly attempts to draw him into naming names of water country eye thieves, Sasuke is ready to face down even a written test given by Ibiki-taicho.

Sasuke instead momentarily confounds Sannosawa-sensei and the totally not lingering Tajima by declaring himself proficient in Katakana and Hiragana because it’s only sensible to know both and also the 2000 common kanji, and several hundred more of the less common ones because his life is strange. Given his declared back story of shifty orphan, their skepticism is earned, but Haku’s been part of his personal back-channel diplomacy and gossip correspondence circle for several years by this point and he could always write as well as any random academy graduate, with further improvements over time, so Zabuza’s inner schoolmaster must have been lurking beneath the surface well before the success of the rebellion.

He prepares the ink and painstakingly writes random and increasingly complex Kanji called out by the teacher-and-possibly-seal-master with a boar-bristle brush for half an hour before the man throws his hands up and tells him to, “Write something to prove you don’t require remedial lessons.”

Sasuke considers his options and the fresh sheets of blank paper on the portable desk. He writes “Ophthalmology, a study of functions and diseases of the Eye” less carefully and paints the expanded diagram with all the labeled parts with his left hand, then swaps to start on the glossary, since it’s easier to copy things out cleanly with his right hand. He’s grateful for the warm up of random characters to get used to the brush again instead of a pen, or this kind of small work be a total mess and give him away. He’s also glad he changed and wrapped the sleeves of his second-hand indigo shirt so they don’t fall down into still wet columns of ink.

Sannosawa can tell he’s just making a copy of course, so once the first sheet is dry Sasuke motions for him to sit close enough to follow along as he reads it out. Kita was unobtrusively working her way through a basket of mending in a corner of the room, but her attention shifts as he starts to read the glossary aloud, and by the fifth term she’s drifted over to see for herself. She and Sannosawa share a look that Sasuke can’t parse, so he keeps reading.

Sannosawa has other duties, but he declares Sasuke to have a sufficient knowledge of Kanji, but offers to let him to sit in on the advanced calligraphy class to help him develop his own style. Sasuke gets the feeling that may be a euphemism for something else, so expresses that he’s open to the idea.

He spends much of that afternoon and the next several copying out a medical text with neat characters. It makes the long hours of sitting under surveillance by various members of the household feel like less of a waste, to be making something useful.

The papers disappear in batches once he declares them finished, and two days later Kita’s friend Yori comes to visit.

Yori and Kita do a lot of catching up over informal tea- Yori is married to Hikaku, Madara’s Cousin who is apparently head of the Yatagarasu Lineage instead of part of Amaterasu, and their net of mutual friends and acquaintances is impressively large. Sasuke listens and drinks his tea and makes himself look at Kita doing girl talk- yet another laughable impossibility for Itachi to imitate, even if Shisui had survived.

Eventually they wind their way around to Yori’s medical apprenticeship. Apparently she is sliding from directly working under their senior healer into an attempt to train field healers, and is looking for recruits. The look Yori gives him is direct and a bit challenging, and he nods his acceptance- once he’s cleared to leave the clan hall, he’ll go down to the healers first. He’s no Tsunade, but he has seen her work at close range, he can share what he remembers.

* * *

  
  


Sasuke isn’t sure how long he’s going to be confined to the Hall- Tajima is unhelpful and Kita seems prepared to keep him  ~~ distracted ~~ for as long as it takes for the man to relent, so he braces himself for a long haul. 

The morning before tea with Yori, Kita explains about Clan coats. It’s clear from her attitude that of course he’s getting one, but she outsources his to her mother since she doesn’t do printed coats anymore.

Minami-san is kind with his confusion and professional in taking the needed measurements. The design of printed linings is a matter of personal preference, and he can design his own if he likes. Minami encourages him to sketch his own ideas when none of the common motifs she lists catch his imagination- “There’s no rush, you can take some time to come up with one that really makes you happy.”

So he’s staring at the coat lining on Izuna’s side of the room hoping for inspiration when that human personification of a bit of black licorice caught on the roof of his mouth and dangerous moonglow shows up, fresh from a hot bath and yet still tasting bitter about existence.

Given that Izuna has done his best to ignore him the few occasions he’s been present in the clan hall, it’s surprising that he makes the leap from Sasuke’s blank paper to coat linings so fast. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Sasuke nods, because it is, even from this distance.

Izuna steps over to the wall and gently lifts lifts the rod holding the panels in place, revealing the careful pinwork securing them to stiff Washi paper as he brings it closer to Sasuke’s side of the room, but not close enough to touch. “Kita’s design, from when we were younger. Ryuujin and his coral palace, are you familiar with the story?”

“Perhaps not the one told here, Izuna-ma,” he glides the sama honorific into the shortened version Zabuza uses on Mei with affection and on asshole nobles to remind them he’s murderous trash that has come up in the world, mainly because using the full sama on Izuna when not putting on a show for Tajima is giving him too much credit.

Izuna appears to ignore the slight to his dignity and lays the panels flat so they can both see, sitting on either side of the invisible wall that divides the room. He tells the story with the air of a generous soul imparting a gift to his ignorant cousin. Annoying, but Sasuke’s suffered much worse in his time, so he makes appreciative noises and is rewarded by Izuna fetching his current coat and pulling it inside out to display Susano’o on a cloudy grey background. These stories Sasuke is more familiar with, but keeps listening.

There’s politics here, he realizes, and what starts out as mythology turns into a casually pointed rundown on what deities proper Amaterasu Lineage members are allowed on their coat and at what sizes, not that it matters to him, will ever matter to him. His sense of Izuna grows darker as the stories turn from Susano’o and his monster slaying to Tsukuyomi’s dissection of Ukemochi for her unsightly behavior. The threat is subtle, but Sasuke spent enough time guarding Tsunade and treading the measures of political dances himself to hear it. He  _knows_ Tajima and Izuna consider him a weed in their garden, unlooked for and unwanted. What he doesn’t understand is what Izuna thinks he’ll accomplish. He reaches out carefully and feels the edge of cruel enjoyment in Izuna’s eclipsed chakra and decides to leave until this mood passes. 

Sasuke interrupts Izuna to thank him for the stories and goes out the window onto the roof by replacing himself with a single leaf.

He expects more resistance from the seal keeping him from going past the engawa, but it seems he’s allowed the peace of the roof if not the garden. Everyone inside the house is gone from his senses and it’s a wondrous release of tension. Sasuke celebrates by wrapping himself in standard stealth and stretching out- it won’t keep him from being found by real hunters, but random passersby won’t spot him laying on the roof of the clan hall and scold. Hime and Denka will find him if they want to.

The number of chakra signatures thins out as the sun sets and the stars come out, and the people who are still out are mostly moving in clear patterns, circling the compound in mirror to the stars above. A slow twirling dance to slow swirling music. Sasuke hums the tune that lives in his bones and smiles, Izuna’s bad mood forgotten.

  
  


* * *

The scrape of the fusuma sliding back is mostly courtesy to not startle, Madara knows this even before Sasuke whispers his intrusion from the garden-side engawa- Sasuke isn’t allowed out of the house so where he’s coming from is a mystery for when Madara can spare a thought from the Senju menacing the southern border. His cousin somehow manages to look  _less_ like Izuna in the indigo work-clothes, the sleeves rolled and held in place by a white tasuki and his hair falling into spikes at the back like Madara’s own, a small smile on his face. Sasuke takes in the rack of armor next to the iori and the quiet of the house before closing the fusuma and approaching in guest slippers too big on his feet but soft as cat paws. “Can I help?” he asks with that odd tilt of his head that Madara realizes gives the person he’s looking at control over how much or how little eye contact they make. 

Madara nods. He can don his armor alone but it will go faster with help. Sasuke picks up the first piece like he’s done this once or twice before and they fall into an easy rhythm of placing, holding, and tying. Though Madara has to correct the order a few times, they manage the usual plate armor with only a few quiet words.

Sasuke eyes the extra plates still on the rack as he helps Madara with his coat, “I haven’t seen anyone else in double armor like this?”

Madara grunts, not happy about the necessity either, “Hashirama-” he begins but Sasuke is nodding as soon as he says the name of his Senju counterpart. “I guess you would have heard about him.”

“Smiles too much for a storm front made of trees?” Sasuke’s expression is more bemused than anything, hard to read in the flickering light of the fire. “I’ve had the dubious pleasure of almost encountering him- his chakra is hard to miss. I assume you’re going out because he’s lurking?”

Madara holds out his arms out of the way as Sasuke lifts the first set of outer plates to settle around his waist, the heavy metal resting against his upper legs and pressing against his lower back to give his kidneys and spine an extra layer of protection. “How do you mean?”

“I mean he isn’t with the others right now-” Sasuke yanks the right-side lacing tight and pauses for a breath as if distracted, “I count seven other earth and water signatures but none of them are as big as Hashirama. Unless he can displace his chakra for these raids?”

“Not to my knowledge-” Madara calculates the distance between the Senju Compound and the Outguard patrols that would have sounded the alarms- if the enemy was close more alarms would be ringing, including the ones to alert his father and brother. “How far away are they?”

A grimace this time, “I’m still not used to having this kind of range, I only got my curse lifted a few months ago. Miles, but I don’t know how to be more precise than that without a map and making a triangle.” Sasuke presses on his shoulder until Madara’s arm is pointing in a particular line before tying on the left shoulder plate. “The main group is on the line between here and where we crossed the river but on the far side, moving towards us slowly- there’s a squad of Uchiha between us and them, maybe two thirds of the way,” he gently tugs and Madara follows as they switch to the right arm, pointing south. “Hashirama is on the line that you would draw between this house and the diplomatic quarters, but south instead of north, further back than the main group, moving east to west but faster than the others. Can’t tell what he’s doing, but I know I wouldn’t want to chase a demon tree into the woods.”

Madara nods, picturing the vectors in his mind and how to shape his interception as Sasuke double checks the armor ties- he straps on his weapons, double-checking that his umbrella bag is secure as well. He steps over to the Genkan to put on his heavy sandals and sends Sasuke a quick smile, “Thanks, Cousin.”

The grin he gets in response is surprisingly fierce, “Kick ass, but come back.”

Madara nods, then heads off into the night to confront his idiot enemy.

  
  


* * *

“Sasuke-san, can you spare a moment?” Kita approaches her new charge as Tajima is taking a break from his paperwork before dinner, sitting at the Iori with Madara and Izuna. Benten and Midori are both out, so it’s as good a time as any to stage this unlocking.

“Of course, Kita-san,” his reply is pleasant, hiding his habitual wariness under a smile half a step removed from boredom. He sets his brush down and flexes his wrist in a familiar spinning motion over his neat lines of characters. She’s watched, and he uses his left hand when making sketches for his coat lining, so she considers it progress.

She sits and sets the sealing scroll out on the unoccupied part of his borrowed desk, open to the section in question, “Formal wear?” she lets her eagerness to see them actually worn bleed through into her tone.

Amusement sparkles quietly in his chakra as Sasuke places his fingers onto the seal and pulses a complex mix of elements in a rhythm that it takes her a moment to recognize as the chorus of a song commonly played at weddings, reversed.  _Shamisen hero!_ She hides her own smile behind her sleeve, but Sasuke catches it as he taps his thumb twice at the end and the seal opens with a flourish. A neatly folded stack of kimono wrapped in paper; she lifts them off the scroll with care onto, separating the outfits with ease. 

The one on top is a simple kimono of subtle printed ash clouds in blue greys on charcoal with a plain grey obi: perfect for wearing to tea. The second is dyed the many greens of a living forest with glimpses of blue sky peaking through, the darker green obi rather wider than most men would wear and stitched with camellia, zinnia and jasmine. Both are good quality cotton and will raise few questions, aside from the color choices.

The last kimono is vivid blue silk, embellished with embroidered fish of gossamer fins swimming amid painted bubbles of many colors, with a silver sea turtle centered on the back where a clan mon would be placed. It’s paired with another slightly too wide mint green obi with orange koi and red turtles, and a pair of obi cords in braided gold sea-silk the same color as the kimono lining. Kita lets the showpiece visiting-wear unfold to show more of the pattern as she stands up, admiring the fineness of the silk between her fingers and the quality of the needlework in the design.

Sasuke stands as well, shifting from wary to proprietary as he keeps the obi and cords from spilling onto the floor with swift, careful hands.

Behind her, Izuna makes a sound of outrage, covering the distance in a few quick steps. “Why are you begging clothes off us if you have loot like  _that_ in your bags?” he accuses with a hiss. 

Sasuke’s eyes narrow and his polite smile turns into a veiled invitation to violence as he growls a reply to Izuna, and Kita catches about half the words: the main thrust of which is that Izuna is an idiot squid-fucker who is doesn’t something and something else because he’s a dick-barnacle that’s never seen probably soap nor something undecipherable and probably equally obscene.

Kita flicks her gaze to Izuna but he only makes a face of incomprehension before Sasuke changes register and stance, drawing himself up tall and straight. This sounds like a ranking noble in cadence, but is still half a dialect Kita doesn’t know- Izuna is in this case someone who has failed to live up to the very basic principle of accepted family, and should be ashamed of himself.

When this doesn’t do more than make Izuna narrow his eyes further, Sasuke drops into a pitch perfect imitation of Uchiha Genbai of the trading Branch, “Tarumae-oba gets that  _family is family_ , you sun-blind, cactus-sitting asshole! I didn’t beg, I didn’t even ask! I didn’t need to. They wanted to help me fit in here so they did. Family means you watch out for each other and don’t make a fuss about it like a fumble-fingered infant, because family will take care of  _you_ when it’s your turn! If an orphan as pan-fried as I am knows that, what the flaming-fuck is your problem, Izuna- _sa-ma_ ?”

Izuna’s outraged face slides into place as soon as he recognizes the accent that Sasuke is mimicking, and only grows as the insults do. Kita knows that the tension between them has been growing over the last week or so, but she didn’t expect Sasuke to explode this way. Another glance and she sees that Sasuke’s holding the folded koi obi protectively but gently against his chest with one arm, the other two kimono in their paper wrapping slid under the desk and out of Izuna’s sight, the movement hidden by his stance changes. She wonders again where he’s from- not the Naruto story she knows, given that his chakra feels like Stars and he has no curse-seal. What was his world like, that he’s still an orphan, perhaps still has the same sensei if the rather Hatake sword and knife she found in his things are any indicator, but steeped in water and sand metaphors and attached to these bright kimono not as loot but as  _clothing_ . 

“Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?” Izuna snarls, hands clenching at his sides.

“Your Cousin,” the look Sasuke levels at Izuna is moving back toward bored again, the rage condensing into a colder anger now that it’s been allowed out, “There was a whole speech less than a week ago. Were you not listening? Do you need me to repeat the relevant bits back for you?”

Izuna grinds his jaw, “No, I remember. But if you can afford-”

Sasuke raises his free hand imperiously, “Uchiha Izuna Hiko, was I in possession of my storage scrolls or even my hat? No, a certain rust-hearted pleasure pirate rudely stole them and has unknown parties trying to raid them. I unlocked this one for Kita-san because she has been nothing but kind and helpful to me,” he pauses to eye Izuna and the kimono Kita is still holding, as if measuring one against the other. “It’s really in everyone’s best interest that Tarumae-san was so generous, or I would have been forced to borrow your clothing, as the closest in size in the house.”

“You are not borrowing any of my clothes,” Izuna says hastily.

Sasuke looks at him with almost pity, “A person I trust told me I look better in anything that isn’t black. And they’re right.”

Izuna splutters.

Sasuke waits.

Izuna storms away.

Tajima says, dry as dust, “If you have a tea kimono, you must join us tomorrow, Sasuke-kun.”

Kita and Sasuke share a hunted look before folding the revealed kimono back into their paper. Sasuke returns to his copying, Kita takes the rest of the scroll away to pretend to work on unlocking the other sections- Tajima will expect results soon after this.

* * *

The first tea ceremony he shares with Kita is postponed a day because of trouble on the border, and Tajima does not participate but sits to the side and watches with his sharingan slowly whirling. It’s not pleasant but Sasuke survived months of shadowing Tsunade to village council meetings, he can endure Tajima’s stares with the same mental tricks he habitually uses to snub the very existence of Hyuuga Hiashi.

From the first greeting Sasuke senses Kita firming up her usual mask of soothing calm into almost aggressively fuzzy serenity- not quite  _intent_ but only because it’s directed inward more than out. Curious. Possibly a coping mechanism if Tajima is her usual tea guest. He tries to keep his own energy balanced and flowing, meeting the almost-intent with the slow breath of the garden. 

Sasuke learned tea ceremony from Anko, he’s used to correction to his manners ranging from dirty jokes to senbon aimed at supposedly nonessential bits. He knows the beats and asks the questions about bowls and decor, but when he tries to make conversation based off the answers he gets he finds himself in a minefield. Not that Kita’s calm and gentle non-answers falter on the surface. No, her mask remains firmly in place despite the frequent spikes of unease he picks up when he asks the wrong sort of question. It’s like navigating a bramble by running your fingers along the canes- you’ll still get cut, but you may find some flowers while you’re in it- so he tries a few different gambits.

All questions about things the clan makes are Inappropriate to be curious about, except apparently charcoal. He absorbs the few words Kita says about carbonized wood’s usefulness like it’s new information, and wonders if the list of uses leaves out medicine and explosives on purpose or if the current practices is really only Fuel, Steel and Ink. Interesting to learn that pre-village Uchiha make their own, and by implication by some means other than mounds or retorts, though what method is left hanging as if either obvious or a clan secret on par with Uchiha Steel Wire.

Sasuke lets Kita turn the conversation back towards fashion in water country, which according to Haku has only changed since the formation of the ninja villages insofar as readily available cheap cloth and dyes lets more and more people involve themselves in the culture of Floating Colors. The near ubiquitous used clothing stores stuffed with bright and flowing garments are a purely urban phenomenon this far back in time, but he attended one of the periodic swap meets with Utakata that claimed to have be celebrating a hundred years of uninterrupted Fashion Festival. He’s more than happy to relate the timeless parts of the experience to Kita, from accessorizing with snacks right down to people swapping the outfits they were wearing with less attention paid to concerns like public indecency than to getting their new acquisitions on  _immediately_ . 

That’s inappropriate too. Sasuke knows and doesn’t really care- it’s the tip of the iceberg of raunchy sword stories shrouded in mist and not much else that he isn’t telling. After inheriting Sensei’s father’s tanto he’d been adopted by not just Zabuza but all of the Seven Swords as a sort of honorary member and living archive- the vicious and salacious personal anecdotes are a sort of bonus, like the sharkshin hilt wraps on his backup katana. When Sasuke grins and tells Kita he learned Kenjutsu in self-defense,  _he means it._ Tajima moves for the first time in an hour to raise an eyebrow, but screw him, if he wanted to be part of the conversation he could be a guest. 

So he’ll talk about cultural differences, fashion, gardens and swords for hours if that keeps Kita’s chakra in that hard-held calm rather than spiking warnings. Sasuke has lived nearly ten years as a ghost Uchiha and however long he’s trapped in the clan hall is just an extension of that. The living heart of the clan is outside, waiting for him to get free.

At least the tea is decent.

* * *

Kita finds Sasuke by the Iori before dinner and confirms that he can’t learn anything about smithing because those are not just clan secrets but in care of the specific smithing families inside the clan. He makes vague words come out of his mouth but doesn’t really engage, not sure what she wants and not feeling substantial enough to figure it out. He was looking at the charcoal to see if it’s different, but he’s never memorized the modern stuff, so he can’t tell.

The worst part is knowing that he can just leave if he wants to- the seal-tether would snap with the right twist of chakra. He could retreat to the Garden, breath free air under the widest starry sky and not have to worry about any Uchiha at all, and certainly none that look anything like his brother. Sasuke’s stuck but not physically- when he tries to meditate he just feels more trapped, but without meditation how is he supposed to deal with all the echoes of his brother he sees in Kita’s face? He can’t train or write or have an honest conversation with anyone but the cats, who don’t get it. It’s easier on the engawa or the roof, he can breath with the sky in sight, but it would be terribly rude to flee the conversation with Kita before she’s done talking, so he nods without looking at her.

Kita asks if he’ll watch Benten while she cooks dinner. How can he say no when he hasn’t done a thing today to contribute except act as Kita’s guest for tea, and then be shooed away rather than allowed to help clean up?

Apparently Kita’s utter fearlessness has rubbed off on Benten, because he ends up with a six year old wrapped around his neck less than a minute after agreeing to watch her. He blanks for a moment before returning the hug, which nets him two contradictory scolds.

“You need more hug practice, niisan,” Benten tells him even as Hime squeaks a protest about being squashed and pokes her head out of his shirt.

“Why do you have a cat in your shirt?” Benten asks, loosening her grip and scooting back to stare at the tiny calico.

Sasuke chuckles, “I ask myself that, but she’s Hime-chan: she does what she wants.”

He is graced with the sparkly gaze of a little girl meeting a princess, “Can you present me? You can’t just introduce yourself to a Princess after all.”

“I’d love to. How are you styled, little miss?” Benten grins and whispers in his ear before scrambling to her feet to make a proper bow as he repeats, “Hime-chan, may I present most honored Uchiha Benten-ko of the Yatagarasu-line, fourth doujou kuge?”

His tiny cat companion meows her approval and reciprocal greetings, which he dutifully translates, “Hime-chan, daughter of Kukie Grass-stalker, daughter of Tori of the Cloud Shadows, descendant of the House of Three-Threes and First of the Line of Stars, is glad to meet you. Also your hair is adorable.”

Benten beams at them, “Her ears are so cute!”

Hime meows, Sasuke translates, “You can pet them if you’re careful.”

Which is how he ends up with a cuddly six year old in his lap scritching Hime’s ears and asking questions about Cats. He does have some pretty amusing personal cat stories, but he decides to go with a classic he first heard from the boss cats when he was a little younger than Benten, so it should be fine.

He settles into a more comfortable position and lifts his free hand to gesture into the distance of time, “This is the story the Cats tell of how the Uchiha became contracted to them, many generations ago now,” Benten and Hime are both attentive as he rolls out the story for them.

Izuna and Madara come in right when he gets to the part where he’s whispering, “others who looked at the Heiress of Cats had been turned to ash by her Otherworldly Beauty, but our ancestor had seen the devastation of the Fox’s Judgment when he was just a kitten himself, so he was able to Gaze upon her true face without blinking. But in return She Saw Him and knew him,” Sasuke smiles at his tiny audience and then ups his volume, not enough to truly frighten anyone but enough to startle, “And she shrieked, ‘UCHIHA! I SEE YOU THERE!’ and Akito  _ran_ _!_ and the Heiress of Cats chased him!” 

Benten lets out a delighted laugh, “Because he was mouse-sized to her!”

“Yes!” Hime agrees and Benten goggles at both of them at the recognizable human word.

“Exactly,” Sasuke confirms, continuing the story, “With her nine feet and nine eyes, she chased, and all through the palace of the Cats they went. He fled because she chased him, and she chased because he fled, until all the rage and fear they felt died and became the joy of running together. But all chases must end, though Akito was trying to convince her to come Outside, and the Heiress was trying to convince him to Stay, until their path was blocked by the King of Cats and his advisors. You see, Akito was the clan heir so he was in a position to negotiate, but the King was not going to make it easy.”

Benten keeps petting Hime as he abridges the negotiations slightly, though he does make sure to impart the important parts of the Cat Contract that would apply even to the crow-summoning family. Hospitality, Aid, Requests not Orders; the important clauses. Then they get back to the good part, the bonding ceremony, which was not a wedding despite having a lot in common with one, right down to trading sake cups.

Midori and Madara sit with them, alert and attentive as Sasuke forms bent-light illusions between his hands to display the royal outfits, decorations, and the head-dresses in more detail on Benten’s request. Izuna and Tajima occupy the far side of the fire with quiet watchfulness but don’t impede the end of the tale or the tiny curl of comfort he feels as Benten presses against his side. Kita keeps up her quiet bustle of cooking, unobtrusive but never hiding- she knows she makes him nervous, so never tries to be so quiet he can't track her, which is another thing Itachi would never have been thoughtful enough to adjust for.   
  
Sasuke feels something in him relax just a little. It's not the freedom of the sky, but he _can_ refuse any demands Tajima tries to make because if push comes to shove he can always just invoke cat rules and leave. He could adapt to a life without thumbs.


	7. The Tiger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jōnen suffers his canon tiger attack- Sasuke is highly medic adjacent.

Ten days into his confinement in the Clan Hall, Midori comes pelting back from her errands yelling for Kita, "Neechan! Jōnen was attacked by a Tiger! They’re taking him to the Healing Hall. Mama told me to get you!"  
  
Kita drops her patchwork without hesitation, but she still manages to make her command polite as she calls him in from the engawa, "Sasuke-san, please come along!"  
  
Sasuke leaves his mending basket with the same speed, but takes a moment longer to strap his sandals than the simple straw ones that Kita shoves her feet into. He still catches up to her and Midori before they clear the second ring of houses because while they’re moving quickly it’s nothing on even basic chakra enhanced movement. Two turns later they arrive at the Healing Hall, a building that feels new in a way that Sasuke can’t quite pin down even as he follows Kita inside.  
  
Stone floors instead of tile, wooden sinks instead metal, sliding fusuma to make partitions instead of curtains, but the lingering scent of disinfectants and the clamorous hush of voices tumbling over and under each other is familiar enough to identify it as a hospital. Kita and Midori home in on their mother and the clump of children that can only be other siblings, standing respectfully out of the way of the lightly armored trio settling the unconscious six year old on the thin mat on the floor. Sasuke takes up a position closer to the action as a sense of unease prickles the back of his neck. He channels more yin-chakra to his star-crystal and while the older woman in the heavily bleached smock has the same worn-smooth edges and implacable calm as the older medics that work with Anbu, he doesn’t sense any active Iryō Ninjutsu or traces of old ones, only the gently blazing seals in the bandages wrapped around the boy’s arm and leg.  
  
Yori directs the patient arranging while the older medic questions the patrol about the incident, neither making a move to do a diagnostic jutsu. Sasuke listens to the report of a tiger mauling and rescue but slowly flips his fingers through the hand-signs for the Nerve Interrogation Jutsu he’d picked up in Suna, gently coaxing the information from Jōnen's body directly.  
  
It’s ugly- two fingers are gone on the kid’s right hand and the deep bites on that arm and shoulder burn with inflammation the bandage seals are fighting back, but Sasuke is more concerned with the absolute mess of the left leg- he’s no expert but he has knees and knows how a healthy one is shaped. Bone chips pressing on blood vessels and cutting into tendons will need intervention to fix. Sasuke starts to form the hand signs to block out certain receptors and refine the information from others when he hears someone address him so pauses the jutsu where it is instead.  
  
"Sasuke-san, what are you doing?" Yori asks.  
  
"It’s a diagnostic," Sasuke starts, "I’m not an expert, but-"  
  
Yori cuts off him off by tossing a smock at his head, "Scrub up, you’re helping."  
  
The smock goes over his head and his clothes without a fuss, so Sasuke combines the act of scrubbing his hands with the last two hand signs he needs to get a better feel for the problems with Jōnen's busted knee because it’s efficient. He opens his mouth to describe the problem to Yori, but when he looks up her eyes turn red and she demands, "Show me."  
  
A single tomoe spins in each eye, no actual threat to him. He grits his teeth and meets her Sharingan with his own, forming a translucent illusion of Jōnen's body floating in the mental space between them. He starts with a default skeleton and circulatory systems, then adds the damage and pain points the Nerve Interrogation provides in varying shades of red. Different kinds of pain do give different feedback to this technique, which would be more useful if Sasuke was actually a medic and not just heavily medic adjacent. Still, he focuses in on the leg and adds layers of muscles, nerves, and tendons that he remembers from academy anatomy classes and time spent "guarding" Tsunade through years of Sakura’s apprenticeship. The illusory structures give more context to the bone chip problem- ouch.  
  
Yori's interest focuses on the damaged arm and shoulder so he builds up the various bodily systems there as well, wincing at how one bright red claw mark slices across exposed nerves and tendons- how much dexterity Jōnen will retain in the fingers he has left will be up in the air until the arm heals.  
  
This exchange only takes a few blinks of real time, but rather than break out of the shared illusion to get to work, Yori asks if he can keep it active and updating while they work, above and off to one side, as a reference.  
  
He’s willing to try.  
  


* * *

  
Kita's not sure why her mother brought baby Kinu to the Healing Hall, perhaps Grandma was out visiting when word came so everyone had to come. It’s not Kinu's fault that everyone is upset and mother is too frazzled to soothe her; it’s a loop of emotion feeding on emotion that is doing no one any good. So when Father shows up still in his forge clothes Kita steals the wailing baby and steps out of the building to walk her calm.  
  
She leaves Sasuke under Yori and Yumiori-oba’s watch- he’s well caught up in the healing now and unlikely to cause problems.  
  
Kinu's cries soften to snuffles and then to hiccups, so Kita kisses the top of her little sister’s head, "Yo ho, yo ho, a carrot’s life for me."  
  
Kinu giggles and Kita adjusts her grip so she can sit on the side engawa and wait without having to deal with all the tension and pain inside the Healing Hall. In the next quarter hour Naka, Tateshina carrying Tekari, and then Midori join her outside, leaving their parents to comfort each other and watch the healers work.  
  
It’s been too long since Kita's had a chance to sit with all her sisters, even if the circumstances are the worst. She asks ‘Shina about what she’s been working on, and gets to hear about the latest pattern grandmother has her and Tsukimi-chan working on. Tsukimi is the daughter of one of the widows in the silk collective who’s declared herself as a rival to Tateshina- "She’s just started on silk and she’s pretty slow, but she says she’s going to be better than me," Tateshina reports in a placid tone, "I’m sure she’ll get over it when she realizes there’s no need for competition."  
  
This is the first Kita has heard of this rivalry, but she doubts that Tsukimi will just get over it. Uchiha who take the rival route seldom give it up.  
  
Naka waits her turn to talk about the latest drama with her friends, but it's far more complicated than a simple rivalry, because only pre-teens and elders have enough energy to create problems on purpose. At least it's entertaining to listen to Naka unravel the threads of petty betrayal and intrigue over ownership of a particularly favored book like it's a heirloom treasure in a play and divine justice may yet prevail- the saga is ongoing, as it wouldn't be so interesting if Naka knew how it ended.  
  
Kita rocks Kinu and listens.

* * *

If he had even a sprig of attention to spare for it, Sasuke would he laughing like a lunatic. He’s doing surgery!

He argued with Yori about the shattered knee in their shared Genjutsu, and won by modeling his proposed solution, so he’s doing the heavy lifting on the jutsu side. It’s amazing and completely ridiculous- Yori took over monitoring the Pain Interrogation for sudden changes so he could focus on other techniques. He’s using Body Adjustment Jutsu to persuade the big bone fragments to line back up with with where they’d parted ways with the kneecap and femur, and then a tiny bit of Mystic Palm to pin them in place, like spot welding.   
  
Yori has not stopped talking since they began, but her response to both Body Adjustment and Mystic Palm is a “Ew, _Yang_ ,” so sincere in it’s disgust that Sasuke has to snort into his elbow. Yori doesn’t missed a beat before she declares she’ll do both in Yin but better and tells him to keep working so she can watch.

Sasuke coaxes progressively smaller bits of bones into place until he’s gotten everything big enough to manipulate with the jutsu he’s using. Using yin to enhance his sensing and yang for the active jutsu at the same time takes most of his focus- if he hadn’t practiced channeling yin and yang energy to his star crystal simultaneously so much in the past few months he wouldn’t be able to hold both transformations as separate threads of energy for so long.

He pauses to wipe his face with his sleeve, relaxing the Yang release and scanning for any more bone bits before dropping the sensing too. He and Yori work together on the bandages and splints to immobilize the joint so it can finish healing naturally. Sasuke gratefully takes the cup of water and senbei handed to him by an amputee healer- he manages to get the man’s name: Oizuru- and thanks him before crunching into the snack.

"Can you fix the lacerations? Do you have with another Yang nightmare technique for soft tissue?" Yori asks. She’s been muttering theory this whole time and part of Sasuke’s brain has it all stored for later because they’re still sharing a minor Sharingan Genjutsu, but he really cannot be bothered to follow her endless march of words right now. 

"I can try, but I said I wasn’t considered very good at this."

"Do as much as you can, I'm learning so much!"

Sasuke considers the seals still working to clean the arm and shoulder of infectious germs and frowns, “Got any bad alcohol? I know a trick for cleaning out any blood poisoning faster than those seals are working.”

Yori grins, hand darting out to grab a small bottle of truly nonpotable stuff from the tray of medicines, “I want to see everything you’ve got.”

So Sasuke uses an Anbu trick to wick out and burn the infection from Jonen’s wounds, which has the double effect of making Yori bounce in glee and alarming the supervising adults a great deal, led by their patient’s father Ikoma. Apparently Fire in the Healing Hall is not something that should be happening except in lamps and braziers.

Sasuke ends up demonstrating the technique twice, once on himself and once on Ikoma- destroying the relatively small infection on Ikoma’s arm with fire is massive overkill, but it demonstrates that the pain is actually quite mild and over quickly compared to the effectiveness.

This calms everyone down and reassures them enough that he and Yori can get back to the hypothetically straight-forward task of dealing with the lacerations. But it’s not as simple as that, because reconnecting tendons or nerves wrong could ruin the remaining fingers on Jonen’s hand. Sasuke takes a moment to finish his water and dig into his memory. He pulls up all the memories he has of arm anatomy and structure, comparing and discarding some before integrating the others into a more detailed genjutsu model.

He scowls down at Jonen’s arm and twists his left hand into the signs to re-start the Pain Interrogation, changing it to focus on the arm and shoulder, then shifting through each kind of pain in hopes that it will make more sense in relation to the more detailed model. It does, but correlating damage to how to fix it takes more thought, and Sasuke finds himself talking as he chooses where to begin.

Yori listens, then meets him with her own thoughts.

* * *

Ikoma watches the healers, two teenagers kneeling on either side of Jonen with their Sharingan spinning in sync. He focuses on the steady circulation of Jonen’s chakra and not on the stillness of his body- immobile is easier to work on, under genjutsu to not feel the pain on his injuries is kinder to everyone.

He has faith in Yori’s skill and intentions, trusts that the clan healers will do their best for his son, but this is already taking hours longer than expected. Fushimi’s steadying presence and Oizuru-san’s tea calmed Minami down enough for her to sit while they wait rather than pacing, but not knowing is a terrible stress.

His faith was steady as jonen's breath until the sudden flare of fire, but he’s willing to trust again because the cut on his arm is not just cleansed but _gone_. After using the burning alcohol jutsu to cleanse it, that impossible young man pressed his hands over the wound, scrunched his brows to focus his chakra, and healed.

Yori said, “That’s the same jutsu as for putting shattered bone bits back together. Sasuke-san, how does that make any sense at all?”

Sasuke nodded and agreed that, “It only works because the user supplies all the discretion. That’s why it’s hard.”

These two teenagers were using medical ninjutsu only one of them understood on his son! - _They’re willing to spend their chakra like water to heal a six year old._

Ikoma’s heard tales of the healing abilities of their enemies, which only makes them more intimidating. There’s nothing about fierce concentration and the same kind of stubbornness required to turn iron sand into supple steel wire - no wonder this was taking far more time than just splinting, salves and wrapping bandages, and still only half done.

Yori and Sasuke trade sides, and though Ikoma can’t see the illusion built between them there is something reassuring about the tone of their conversation- they aren’t worried about losing their patient, they have moved on to giving Jonen back as much function in his mauled arm as they can. Yori has the Inari tendency to talk, but she’s listening with just as much intensity now. Then the cheerful collaboration is rent by accented sarcasm- Fingers can’t be reattached if no one thinks to bring them back. Did they shake down the tiger after killing it? Ikoma can’t tell if that’s a terrible joke or a serious idea, and the deadpan follow-up about cold-box seals doesn’t help. Yori withdraws the question about regrowing fingers, tables limb-preservation for later, and they get back to what they can do right now.

This is not frightening, this is possibility. Ikoma flexes his hand and the skin does not pull. The flesh is new, but whole and strong. He smiles- as much as he’d like to see more, it will be better for everyone if he reassures his wife and family that all will be well.

* * *

  
Mother looks better when she comes out to join them for lunch, the terror tempered into worry-tinged-relief. She's leaning into Father's side, their fingers intertwined and holding fast. Father looks tired but hopeful, his other arm draped over Tateshina’s shoulders- she’d gone to fetch them when the food arrived. Yumiori-oba and Grandma follow them out of the Healing Hall, the senior pharmacist drying her hands on a towel as she steps into the sun. Kita eyes the large bento stack sent by Aunt Tsuyu and estimates there is enough to feed everyone in the family and the healers as well, so she keeps dishing out servings without fear of being rude.  
  
"How is Jonen?" Naka asks, looking between the healer and their parents with open concern.   
  
Father smiles with open relief, “He will live,” then inclines his head to Yumiori.  
  
"We'll have to wait and see how well he recovers, given how much damage there was to his knee and that hand," Yumiori looks at Mama, Naka and Tateshina in particular, "He'll need a lot of help moving for a few months because bones take a long time to fully heal." After securing nods from each of them she turns to Kita. "So."  
  
"Yumiori-oba?"  
  
"Has Tajima-sama delegated arranging his young cousin's watch entirely to you, Kita-chan? Because Yori-chan can take him off your hands for at least half-days _indefinitely_."  
  
That's considerably more than she and Yori had spoken about last week, and so Kita asks the obvious question, "Will Sasuke-san agree to that arrangement?"  
  
Yumiori's smile turns wry, "I think someone wanted a cute little Uchiha assassin, so they told him he didn't have the temperment or natural control to be a medic. But it backfired because he obviously learned anyway. He and Yori are still working but the results so far are impressive."  
  
Kita gives Yumiori a warm smile, "I would be grateful, please take care of him."

* * *

Sasuke takes a moment to reset his plans as they scrub off- he foolishly thought a day or two of brain wringing would catch the Uchiha medics up on the tricks he'd picked up from Tsunade. Instead he's looking at their scaffolds of sutures, pain-blocking genjutsu, and seal-stitched bandages built up from a knowledge base that hasn't even caught up to academy basic in many areas and knows he’ll be living with the healers -metaphorically- for the duration of his stay.

Pain Interrogation and High Proof Purification are useful as is, one of their first tasks will be to teach them to the other medics, and Yori mentioned the Purification may also get taught to some of the Outguard since it’s clearly a field application. The list of first tasks keeps growing: Sasuke keeps that thought to himself for now as Yori points out to him the tiny medical library and leads him into the adjacent pharmacy. The familiarity is disturbing until he recognizes the scent of a less proprietary Nara recipe for fever reduction- despite all the time he’s spent in his teammate’s family grounds, what he knows about compounding medicines in not going to impress anyone so he’s glad that’s handled. He’d rather help Yori perfect the new jutsu anyway, more his area.  
  
Sasuke marvels at the practical arrogance of rebuilding a jutsu to suit your strengths if it was, for example, so tuned to a natural affinity for yang release that anyone without it would struggle to control the jutsu with the needed precision. It would never happen in Konoha, which was in awe of the Senju and Tsunade, but in this place, at this time? They could do it. A more balanced healing jutsu that could be used by those with merely mortal chakra control would expand the pool of emergency medics exponentially. To achieve Tsunade's old goal of a medic in every squad by demolishing the hero worship that made innovating past her unthinkable: the irony was too delicious to pass up.

The idea of going on where Tsunade refused reminds him of something else that might have a better solution than they’d managed, so he asks Yori, “Is grief induced chakra drain a common problem?”

Yori switches her rambling about the herb garden over to what he’s talking about with admirable speed, “The only chakra drain that _was_ common isn’t because we have minimum chakra requirements for the Outguard now. They did that because people were dying from getting their Sharingan if they didn’t have enough chakra to maintain it-” her reaction to her own words is _shocked_ but she keeps going, the connections coming together like a rockslide picking up speed. “But a basic level isn’t that draining _if you can turn it off_.” She looks at Sasuke, horrified, “But the Mangekyo… oh no. Are you okay?”

Sasuke nods, “It’s never happened to me.”

Yori chews on her lip and looks at him more critically, “We’ll talk about this later, you look dead on your feet.”

She’s not wrong- he hasn’t pushed himself to maintain this many jutsu for this long since his curse seal was replaced- and his chakra feels wonky but he could keep going if he needed to. “Okay?”

* * *

Yori tells them Kita and her family Jonen is sleeping off the healing, then devours her share of the bento like a starving animal. “You can see him, but maybe not everybody at once,” she adds after washing down a long swallow of noodles with herbal tea.

Naka hands the sleepy-cranky Tekari to Father and hops up to follow Mother and Grandmother inside. Father doesn’t protest, rubbing Tekari’s back in a soothing motion. Tekari continues to fuss, but not as loudly.

“And where is Sasuke-san?” Kita asks when Yori slows her rate of chewing to a more reasonable speed.

Yori tilts her head toward the back of the Healing Hall, and when she’s swallowed says, “Catnapping in the back courtyard. He worked hard keeping up that genjutsu that let us see where the damage was, and his brain needed a rest.” Yori’s smile never falters, Father’s smirk is pure defiant mischief for just a moment and Kita nods. Tajima will not ask for details, so anything Kita sees she can and will keep quiet, no matter how otherwise remarkable.

Kita lets herself smirk a little too, “Papa, I believe Sasuke-san will make a fine pillow if Tekari-chan needs a nap.”

Yori laughs, “So long as you don’t mind cats.”

Sure enough, Sasuke lays curled up in the grass of the courtyard not far from Oizuru’s washtub, half covered in cats and dozing. Kita feels his chakra rouse slightly at their approach, but he only flickers an eye open when Father tucks Tekari against his side with a soothing hair ruffle. Sasuke lifts his arm to wrap loosely over the cranky toddler and starts to hum. He gets through the chorus of something awfully similar to _Joy to the World_ before both he and Tekari fall asleep.

“Well that’s handy,” Yori whispers, “May have to steal him when I have kids if he can do that consistently. Or learn the magic sleeping song. Anyway, this way if you want to see Jonen-kun.”

They do. Of course they do.

Kita knows that healing jutsu can do incredible things from her knowledge of the Naruto story, but feeling the smooth skin of her little brothers face where that morning was a bloody claw wound is still a surprise. A pleasant one, for once.

* * *

Izuna wakes up with a heavy weight on his back.

He starts to roll, intending on pinning the interloper to the futon- a spike of Halting Intent from the other side of the room makes him take a split second to assess- the weight is a child with an Uchiha chakra signature, not an enemy. Izuna still spins, but ends up with Maru, the late Suseri’s youngest son, in his lap rather than pinned with a knife at his throat.

Maru blinks at him.

Izuna blinks back, unsure why the eleven year old is here.

Sasuke resumes his morning stretching routine, including singing the same annoying tune as he contorts himself into various shapes. Maru looks between them before focusing back on Izuna expectantly.

Izuna decides to start simple, “Good morning?”

Maru continues to stare at him.

“You here for breakfast, Maru-kun?”

Maru nods, “It was delicious.”

It’s early for breakfast to actually be ready, “Did you ask Kita-chan for some leftovers?”

The look shifts to skeptical, “Didn’t ask her.”

Sasuke clarifies, even though no one asked _him_ , “I shared the last leftovers from my bento when Maru-bou showed up.”

Maru grins as he rolls off Izuna and bounds over to the other side of the room- there’s something off in Sasuke’s collapse under Maru’s pounce, and sure enough a beat later Maru is clinging to the doppelganger’s back as he rises into another stretch, lifting one arm and foot above his head as he sings about being a dancing tree. Maru gives a nearly silent whine and clings harder when the pose inverts into a handstand, this verse is about a farmer and a queen, apparently. 

Izuna chuckles as he flops back against his pillow. Maru rides through two more gravity inversions without losing his early breakfast all over Sasuke because there is no justice in this world. 

Eventually the song ends and Maru slides to the floor like that was his plan all along. “We go now?”

Izuna sits up and reaches for his yukata, but apparently the maniac can kidnap people when he turns into a leaf.  _Great._

* * *

Maru leaves Sasuke with Yori for his first official day as a healer only after making her promise to not let him take any more naps without a Good Dreams Charm. Yori agrees- it’s only fair. Duty done, Maru leans against Sasuke’s side in a loose hug, which he returns with a fond hair ruffle and return hug before sending the kid on his way to calligraphy lessons. 

Yori flexes her hands around the handle of her gathering basket and grins, “I hope you wore your walking shoes- we’re starting today with a tour. We do a lot of home visits, so you need to know the layout of the compound. If you have any questions ask me, alright?” They do try to treat everything but the most dire injuries at home to prevent cross-contamination, so knowing the layout of the compound is important. It also has them moving and harder to spy on during the conversations she’d rather not have spread around. 

“Alright,” Sasuke nods and makes a sweeping gesture toward the southern gate, “Lead on, Yori-sama.”

“Your manners are impeccable- don’t think I didn’t notice that you never actually said my name yesterday.”

“How awkward of me.”

Yori leads him into the herb garden, where her Yumiori-oba is checking on a few of the plants, but it’s otherwise empty even of crows. Best to be blunt about it and hope he understood their reasons, “You could be Sasuke-senpai, but you understand why I can’t imply that a member of Amaterasu is more qualified to take over leading the Healing Hall than me? It’s not a slight against you or your skills.”

“I just got here, I know three of you and almost no-one else, I don’t know how you do things- who would want to put me in charge?” Sasuke gives her a look that says he thinks that's a crazy idea and her heart warms. Half a beat later he whispers, “Fucking Tajima.” 

Yori giggles, because despite the potential politics stinking up what should be a straightforward improvement that will save lives, at least she doesn’t have to talk around the boulder in the room. “As you say,” she imitates her uncle's profound tone before returning to her usual voice, “So please forgive us because we need to keep what you can do quiet until more of us can do similar things. Even if Tajima doesn’t try to put you in charge, he might do drag you into the Outguard as more tactically advantageous.”

“Tajima doesn’t really consider me part of his… lineage.” Sasuke says with care, like the words might ignite if he holds them in his mouth too long, “More an unfortunate mistake the Cats won’t let him correct. But I can picture him pretending that he does in order to indirectly control another part of clan life. He won’t hear about healing jutsu from me, Yori-sama.”

Yori pauses, because she knows Tajima is a manipulative bastard, she’s seen the effects of his orders on Hikaku over the years, but she can’t imagine what outcome the autocratic Outguard head is aiming for this time, semi-disowning a cadet member of his lineage with untapped skills and potential. More fool him- if Yori is any judge, Sasuke would be moving into his own house as soon as he was of age and free to make his own choice- possibly sooner if he landed a sweetheart and got permission to marry. But the domestic issues of the clan hall aren’t hers to solve. “You don’t need to call me Yori-sama except at actual formal occasions. In the Healing hall we’re all working together, outside rank isn’t important.”

“Okay, Yori-senpai,” Sasuke gives her a sad smile, “You can call me Sasuke, since we’re on a team now.”

Yori huffs and starts them out of the herb garden into the wider world of the Compound, “You explain why you think that’s okay, and I’ll explain why it’s not!”

* * *

The tour makes a spiral pattern through the central residences, the better to help him orient where different buildings are in relation to each other, Sasuke expects, before they head into a wider circle of the entire grounds. It’s stupidly nice to be outside and not confined to the roof of the clan hall, so he lets the argument about honorifics draw out- Yori is a practiced talker, so it’s not hard.

Yori’s position is that inviting people to not use honorifics encourages them to think of him as someone not worthy of respect and alienates him from the usual process of getting to know people. It also sets a bad precedent for the children!

Sasuke doesn’t actually have a problem with being -san, but the moment anyone within five years of his age or who sounds like Orochimaru uses -kun on him he’s going to go absolutely feral. It’s bad enough that Tajima does it, at least he sounds like he’s been trying to chew iron for a decade so his creepy vibes are word choice, not timbre. He tries to explain this without seeming like a madman and is materially failing at both when he gets interrupted by a cat landing on his head and solving the problem.

“Sasuke-bou is all mixed up, Yori-san,” Denka says as he finds balance on his new perch by digging his claws into Sasuke’s shirt, “Some people with no respect for personal boundaries used to call this kitten Sasuke-kun, you see.”

Sasuke can feel himself bristling- if he had fur it would be standing up, “I think  _biting a curse into my chakra_ is the extreme end of disrespecting personal boundaries, Denka-taichou!” He hisses at the cat.

“Yes, the others were mere annoyances by comparison, but it’s cumulative,” Denka muses, pressing his claws into Sasuke's shoulder like kneading dough, “Left you with the wrong idea about manners when you aren’t using them as weapons, Sasuke-bou.”

“How so?”

“Manners are tools, they can be used to build as well as to cut.”

Sasuke wants to bash his face into the tree Denka dropped out of, instead he turns to Yori, “Apologies, Yori-senpai. You should call me what you’re comfortable with.”

Yori grins at them, “Of course, Sasuke-bou. What’s this about a curse?”

Sasuke decides to embrace -bou, it’s diminutive but being underestimated won’t hurt him here. He evicts Denka from his shoulders and points at a crafting-roof with a pile of river clay and a faintly smoking earthen oven near it; “That curse is gone now. Yori-senpai, is that a kiln?”

Amazingly, she lets it go for now. “Yes, clan pottery is a fairly new project but we’ve gotten some interesting results, come see,” Yori leads him toward it, “Famous Uchiha fire adapted for firing kilns, would you believe it?”

“Let the Shinobi who has never used the esoteric power of chakra for cleaning throw the first stone- and then that basic bastard can dodge my return fire.”

Yori relaxes as he does, the tour continues through the craft district before looping back south toward the river and the large gate that marks the semi-formal entrance to the compound. There’s fields in this area, but the people tending them have chakra that is universally sharp, honed to answer to the split-second demands of combat. Many of them are also recovering from some sort of injury. Yori explains these fields belong to the Outguard, worked by those off duty or healing up and not ready to get back to training. 

“So those two,” Sasuke motions at a pair walking through a field of buckwheat a good fifteen meters apart but singing a call-and-answer song loud enough to stir the birds from the field and the surrounding trees, “are keeping the birds off and checking for pests, and it keeps them from straining anything but their voices?”

“Yeah, they’ll maybe check and see if the wild greens on the ends of the rows need thinning or if the berries are ripe, that sort of thing. Or take the time to listen to birds singing and relax a little.” 

Sasuke smiles at the idea of using Kakashi as an actual scarecrow, with Gai as his partner to make sure he didn’t become a statue impersonator instead. The mental image pleases him so much he starts to hum as they continue their walk along the paths between the armory and the Outguard Hall, then past a few training grounds of different sizes but with plenty of residual chakra ground into the dirt. 

One of the Outguard Lieutenants comes over and Yori lights up, cheerfully introducing, “My husband Hikaku, Head of the Yatagarasu Lineage.” She motions to him with a grin, “Sasuke of Amaterasu, charmer of cats and birds.”

Sasuke feels the sag in his shoulders as he turns to look behind him, but the trio of finches chirp up at him with no shame at all. He lifts his hand to shoo them off, “I don’t have-” but it’s the juvenile hawk swooping in to land awkwardly on his wrapped wrist that sends the smaller birds fluttering away. 

Yori starts laughing. He’s pretty sure that’s Hikaku joining her a beat later.

“I don’t have anything for you either,” he addresses the hawk, but the bird only adjusts its stance on his arm and folds its wings to get comfortable. “Oh, just looking for a rest, then?” Sasuke turns to his tour guide, “Is there going to be a falconer on this tour, Yori-senpai, or should I try harder to make this freeloader let go?”

“You could ask Madara if that’s one of the clan birds, he’s closer,” Hikaku suggests, “I’ll go get him; he needs a laugh.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Hikaku-sama,” Sasuke dead-pans.

“It’s all mine, Sasuke-san,” Hikaku says before jogging off. 

Sasuke gives the hawk a dubious look, which she ignores in favor of watching the Outguard training in the next field. Puts him in his place. He hums a different tune, listening for the harmony between world and the rhythm of his own chakra and matching it. He gets enough of a matching beat back to recognize the hawk as a fellow pack hunter and has a little more sympathy for being approached so brazenly- if he had the resources maybe they could make a go of a partnership. He’s only ever worked with summons, but this hawk looks and feels a lot like the main clan he summons from, the okami-taka, wolf-hawks. 

“Do you always get an entourage of birds when you hum or sing, Sasuke-bou?” Yori gets a gleam in her eye, that of someone with a problem and a potential solution in reach, “Does it work on chickens?  One of my aunt’s chickens is forever hiding under the house and my littlest cousin is almost too big to squirm in after her so if you could charm her out that would be very useful. There’d be eggs in it for you. Do you like eggs? Can you eat eggs if you have bird charming powers?”

Sasuke can’t help the smile that spreads across his face, “I have never tried to charm a chicken.”

“No time like the present, we’ll pass by on this tour anyway. You know what they say, confidence is key so don’t doubt yourself!” 

Sasuke snorts, “Right.”

This Madara is like a furnace, not a forest fire, but it’s still hard to miss when he comes out of the Outguard Hall with Hikaku. Sasuke wonders if Izuna is around, so settles his stance and channels yin chakra to his star crystal with purpose. Sasuke feels Izuna's moonlight on his face from the south-east, so he has a direction. But when he focuses his senses that way he’s distracted from his face-double by the insufficiently distant beacon of Earth, Water, and Tree.

_ Hello Senju neighbors- You’re a lot closer than I expected. _

Sasuke loses a moment trying to sort any other Senju from Hashirama- the amount of Overbearing Tree and the Tree's current feelings of _wonder!_ and _romance!_ make it difficult to sense anything else, like the existence of other clan members. He manages to get a whiff of sunlight on salt water near the tree, but that's all before he has to focus back on what's in front of him.   


Madara has arrived and his expression is intent on the hawk. Sasuke drops the yin channeling altogether, better not to have the potential distraction in the corner of his senses.

“So, what’s the verdict?” he asks after letting Madara stare for a minute. 

“A lovely young chestnut hawk. I’ve never seen her before,” Madara says, his voice soft with admiration, “Is she yours? She’s very calm for having been on her own for weeks.”

“Oh, we just met,” Sasuke wants to wave this off as nothing but knows it’s weird, “She’s calm because I’m calm.” He tries to put conviction into his words.

Yori smirks at him, “Who doesn’t love a good song? You must get a lot of kisses at Tanabata.”

Sasuke tries to convey with a look how unamused he feels at  _ that _ comment, but Madara has produced a tidbit of meat from his umbrella bag like a magic trick and is offering it to the hawk- with a thick pair of gloves on, because he’s not a fool. Of course the bird thinks free meat is a great idea, “If she’s not a clan hawk-”

“I’m sure Hiuchi-san can find a place for her with my birds,” Madara says, as he offers his wrist to the volunteer, “If you don’t mind, Cousin.”

Sasuke hums a question to the hawk and she flips her white-banded tail feathers and tilts her head in assent. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Be good, Kashi-chan.” he moves his wrist a little closer to Madara’s and the hawk daintily makes the transfer, fluttering a little bit as she resettles her balance. The newly named Kashi eyes Madara for a moment then relaxes to be carried like the trolling sensei she was named after.

Madara coos at her.  _ Uchiha. Madara. Cooing.  _

Yori can giggle all she wants, but its clear to Sasuke that Kashi is the real bird-charmer here, and Madara is her willing victim.

Coaxing Yori’s aunt’s errant chicken out from under the house with a whistled rendition of  _ “The Demon-Scorpion Went Down in Kusa” _ is anti-climactic by comparison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me, and two scenes have been moved to the next chapter. I hope you enjoy!


	8. The Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take a single step to the side to go around an obstruction or walk on easier ground, then another to gather greens or berries, a third to not hit your head, and before you know it your path has changed.

“Another stencil, my dear?” Ikoma scolds his wife gently to not startle her into a bad snip of her shears, “You should be sleeping.”

Minami sighs at him but doesn’t deny it, “My head knows that the Homeguard found Jōnen in time and that the healers did amazing things for him. But my heart is still unsure.” She motions at the final sketch for the coat design and the shapes she’s traced from it onto the thinner paper, “For this I have to be steady.”

“Yes, even I can see that’s ambitious for a print. For one of the traders?”

“Close,” Minami smirks a little, “That’s Sasuke-san’s design. Kita-chan and I may have encouraged him to indulge in complication, since Tajima-sama was keeping him confined to the clan hall.”

Ikoma takes the sketch by the edges to inspect more carefully and it isn’t Kita’s familiar playful style, but like someone who was used to drawing from life had gotten lost and stumbled into a gambling hall populated by animal spirits. If Tajima had seen it or any of the draft versions he was unlikely to have appreciated the content or the artistry. “Are the two star rivers for inside the sleeves?”

“Yes, Shirushi has some print blocks that we’ll use for the river waves and the shooting stars, but I would like to make new blocks for the creatures.”

“Sea slug and dragonfly I understand, but has no one ever done a tanuki or turtle?”

“Not quite like that,” Minami laughs, “such a modest tanuki I have never seen.”

Ikoma smiles. It would be better if Minami were sleeping through the night, but if she can laugh then she isn’t stressing to the point of harming her health. “Since they aren’t confined to the clan hall any longer, we should invite Kita-chan and Sasuke-san over.”

Minami hums, snipping out the details of the ōkami’s wolf ears, “I’d like that.”

* * *

Oizuru breathes through his frustration and tries again- this time the dislocated finger bone on his left hand slides back into place with a feeling of rightness. That would teach him to rush through his hand seals like he was still in the Outguard after not practicing properly for years.

On the other hand, it gave him an excuse to try the Body Adjustment technique that Yori-kun and Sasuke-san used on the Toyotama boy. The Sharingan he activated in the same fight where he lost his leg has two tomoe -capable of reading chakra flow- so he managed to learn the basics of Body Adjustment after watching it done so many times in succession.

Yang nightmare is right. By Outguard standards Oizuru’s chakra reserves were considered modest, but among the healers he’s in the upper third and relatively more yang-heavy than most. This technique would be very hard for some of the healers to perform at all, and certainly not for hours. They’ll need to increase chakra supplement production if chakra healing _and_ seal stitching will be draining the healer’s reserves.

His duties in the Healing hall have always tended toward restraining those who couldn’t accept the pain blocking or calming Genjutsu, removing limbs that can’t be saved, preparing the final goodbyes for those who choose the knife, and other heavy duties that didn’t require fast feet but a strong back. It’s a position of responsibility, but mostly he supports the other healers in their work, to make things easier for them. It’s also a lot of laundry.

But if they’re really thinking about cold-boxing limbs to reattach with new medical jutsu, his duties are likely to change for the better.

This he wants to learn along side them, so long as it doesn’t involve too much book work. Kanji was never his strong point- they dance on the page- but he can pay attention to the chakra and practice until he catches up.

Oizuru folds his hands more slowly through the signs and rather than commanding change just listens to his body. The usual aches from his leg, the lingering twinges from his finger, the ache in his hip from the unbalanced gait his crutch requires of him- maybe his hip and spine could be better aligned. He pictured the perfect posture of Madara-sama at official occasions, the easy swing of his gait as he walked even in his stiff formal wear. The balance should be like _so._

 _Yeah, like that._ He has to smile as the vertebrae and muscles in his lower back ease with tension he didn’t know he’d been carrying.

“Oizuru-senpai, are you improvising without supervision?”

“Sasuke-san?” How did he know? He and Yori were at the other end of the hall arguing anatomy and artistic license a few minutes ago.

“I felt that, Oizuru-senpai! You were using Body Adjustment,” Sasuke-san’s expression turns bright with a near copy Niniji-sama’s new idea gleam, and Oizuru has a sinking feeling that he will not be much better at resisting this one than his brother had been at resisting Niniji before they died.

“Yes?” he admits cautiously.

“You did, twice even!” Sasuke-san’s regard only intensifies, “But your Yang-release is chunky, more like yang umeboshi in a yin onigiri rather than uniformly yang-flavored soup. Which is not _exactly_ what we want to make but close. Could you do it again while we watch, for science?”

Oizuru nods. For the chance to one day put down his bone saw he’ll embrace the storm with a smile. And he’ll keep the healers’ secrets behind his teeth until Tajima follows his brother into death, there to meet his just and painful rewards- kami grant it be soon.

* * *

Tobirama presses his fingers and thumb over his temples and squints toward his regular squad sneaking through the underbrush directly into another ambush. _Will they ever learn not to rush in?_  
  
Training with Touka’s squad was his idea and Tobirama stands by his decision, but he should have expected that with his self-imposed handicap they would eliminate him at range and by stealth as soon as possible, leaving his own squad easy pickings. Now that he’s out of the exercise he’s free to observe with his full sensing capability and it’s a mixed bag. They lack direction beyond avenging his fall. None of them are stepping up to take control: not the second strongest fighter Shurou, nor the eldest Chigi, not clever Maki or loud Koenma.

It’s a problem.

Senju don’t do wasteful redundancy, so Tobirama has no tactical second on his squad. He could appoint Chigi or Shurou on the basis of age or fighting skill, but it would go against too many traditions, since neither have actually shown any more ability with tactics than the others. No, it seems he must try out one of Mito-san’s phrases and see if a rising tide will lift all the boats- or failing that, a losing proposition show him who has the most potential to learn.

They do manage to coordinate their efforts and take out Touka before losing any more people, so he has someone to plan with while their squad exercise breaks into single duels, again.

Touka thinks his new plan will be entertaining, at least.

* * *

Madara sips his tea and considers his host. Yori’s poise has not broken since she greeted him at the door, but he can see the tension in her grip as much as her uncharacteristic short sentences. Once the tea is poured and the first cups enjoyed, she finally cracks, “Madara-sama, thank you for making time to visit. There’s something that came up recently that you may have some insight into.”

“Hmm?” he settles back and waits for Yori to choose her words- most unusual.

“I’m sorry, this is hard to articulate. It’s about Mangekyo but there are two things.”

Madara runs his thumb over the top of his cup, calming his emotions and his chakra with each breath. “What’s the first thing, Yori-san?”

“I’m not sure which should come first, but I’ll start with the less personal. The Mangekyo is a chakra heavy technique, isn’t it? Especially when you first activate it?”

“Yes…” Madara isn’t sure where Yori’s going with the question, but she’d not wrong, “It gets less so with practice and the proper training.”

“That’s what we thought.” She pauses to consider, then says in a single breath, “We think that Mangekyo may be what killed the people who activated their Sharingan in combat without enough chakra reserves.”

Madara feels his own breathing pause as he takes in Yori’s words, “How would that work? And who is we?”

“The theory is that once the right conditions are met, it’s emotion _not_ will that directs chakra toward activation. But if they don’t have enough chakra to fuel that initial technique- or don’t know that the Mangekyo exists- the chakra just drains to no effect until they die of grief.” Yori looks down at her hands, tight fists in her lap in what he realizes is anger. “Control doesn’t come until someone successfully activates it the first time.”

“That... may be correct,” Madara ventures, “It’s hard to distinguish emotional exhaustion from chakra drain with the Mangekyo. It is in the clan laws that those with newly awakened eyes are considered to be emotionally compromised until the first manifestation ends. If so, the restrictions on joining the Outguard didn’t come soon enough.”

“The Homeguard aren’t so far from tragedy anymore, Madara-sama,” Yori’s gaze bores into his, “If you think the idea has merit, then we can teach the smiths with large chakra cores a new chakra transfusion technique, just in case someone needs help.”

“So long as it doesn’t interfere with production or patrol schedules, I don’t see how teaching a first aid technique could possibly raise objections.”

“Thank you, that eases my mind a little.”

“You’re still angry, though.”

“Madara-sama, I didn’t pull these ideas from the sky, there was a conversation.” Yori brings her fists down on the tatami in frustration, “I’m angry because I didn’t realize until this morning that he wasn’t _just_ asking if we had treatments to not die of grief, but if the Mangekyo itself is as common here as it apparently was in the strange place he grew up,” her expression turns from simmering to coldly murderous, “I might have given him the wrong impression. But not more wrong than whoever used their Mangekyo to torture a family member. They had better already be dead.”

Madara has control of his temper. He does. But it’s good that no one else is in Yori’s house and the seals prevent anyone from feeling his chakra control slip. “What.”

“'Damned torture eyes,'” Yori quotes, “is beyond even Senju propaganda.” She’s not wrong, rumors speak of Uchiha _demon_ eyes. But that’s always been because of their ocular Genjutsu, not the Mangekyo, which hadn’t been seen in two centuries before his own manifestation a few years ago.

“Dealing with outsiders who hurt clan members is an Outguard job, so if that person _isn’t_ already dead,” Madara leaves the sentence hanging, but the implication that he would be more than happy to hunt them down is clear. Even if they are kin, turning what was likely _Tsukuyomi_ on one of your own is reprehensible.

It casts Sasuke’s panicked reactions to Sharingan and avoidance of the Uchiha in a different light. He may have been avoiding the clan for his own reasons, unrelated to the goals of bloodline thieves. Madara wonders for a moment why he’s here now.

* * *

It’s good to visit home. It reminds Kita that not everyone lives with their emotions pressed flat and neat into boxes stored in the loft.

The house is in an uproar when she and Sasuke arrive right after breakfast; mostly a lot of incomprehensible yelling between Jōnen, Naka and Tateshina with Tekari wailing counterpoint above it all. Grandma’s trying to save a delayed breakfast from over-cooking and shout down the cacophony but is interrupted by a coughing fit. Kita moves instantly to help Grandma, pulling Tekari away from the iori and activating the leash seal on his shirt with a twist of chakra.

The knock that startles the room into silence must be augmented to cut through all the other noise. All her siblings’ eyes shoot to Sasuke and Midori, still standing in the engawa. He manages to look abashed, though his tone is the light lilting accent he uses when trying to sound diplomatic but is secretly smiling at some private joke, “Please pardon the intrusion.”

“Come in, come in,” Grandma says with more sincerity than the formulaic greeting requires. Normally Mama and Papa would be here to manage everyone, and if unflappable Tateshina is joining in on the shouting, the appearance of another older teen can only seem a blessing.

Kita hands Tekari to her house guest to soothe while she sorts out what is going on with her other siblings. Sasuke accepts the toddler with practiced care and Tekari’s cries cut off into a gurgle as soon as he starts to sing. Kita can’t sense any Genjutsu, and she is looking now: it’s just calming energy that flows on the notes of an old lullaby. Kita turns her attention to Grandma, who tilts her head toward Naka ever so slightly, even as she asks Tateshina for help with the rice.

Naka is upset with Jōnen for his whining and bad attitude whenever Mama is out of sight, and Tateshina for enabling him when Naka tries to shut it down. Of course it’s not so simple to express as that for Naka- she’s only twelve and everything to do with emotions is amplified and chaotic.

Mama, Papa, and baby Kinu return from whatever errand they were running, and her parents divine the fight from the groupings: Jōnen across the iori from Grandma and Tateshina but clearly not with them, herself and Naka in the far corner next to the bedrooms, Midori choosing to join the neutrals out on the engawa rather than cross the battle lines between their siblings. Midori is holding the small bowl of miso and mush while Sasuke begins the arduous task of feeding Tekari his breakfast.

Papa sits next to Jōnen with a serious expression while Mama joins her and Naka and hugs them both, careful of Kinu in her sling across Mama's chest. Naka’s a little more articulate on the second run through, and Mama promises changes. This was a stern wake up call for everyone.

Breakfast proceeds in stages of food distribution and apologies. Everyone apologizes to Grandma for not listening, Tateshina and Naka apologize to each other with a look that promises more discussion out of earshot of Jōnen.

Midori wants to introduce Sasuke to the quail and see his princess trick and Mama herds all the girls out to the work shed to show off her latest project, leaving Papa to have a private conversation with Jōnen. Kita hopes it helps.

*

Ikoma thought that it would take longer for his eldest son to start disregarding his wisdom, but Jōnen is determined to start his teenage rebellion a decade early. The cruel words of a cousin must be more honest and true than the kind encouragement of an old man like him. Had he ever been so backward in his logic?

Jōnen won’t be moved from his sulk, but there are uses for immobility. Ikoma leaves him to sit while he calls Sasuke in, a task that takes a few minutes as the healer and Midori are covered in happy quail and it would be rude to interrupt before the end of the song. Besides, it was catchy. If the incomprehensible old bullfrog Jiraiya needed help to drink his wine, Ikoma would deliver.

When Sasuke extracts himself, he makes a detour to cling to the side of the house and blow off all the quail dander and dirt with a swirl of chakra. It’s precise, practiced, and just as strange as the bird charming, though easier to understand and replicate, should one choose.

Ikoma asks if he can do the healing check now. Sasuke nods and follows him back inside. Jōnen tries not to look at either of them, but that’s impossible so he glowers up at Sasuke like a tiny storm cloud. Ikoma wants to observe so fades back to the other side of the iori- there are a few sticks of kindling he can turn into charcoal to pass the time.

“I hear you’ve been sulking, even though your sisters are helping you out,” Sasuke scolds gently as he takes Jōnen’s arm and extends it out of the shirt sleeve, obviously watching the way the muscles move as he does, “Do you want to complain to me too? If something isn’t working right then you should blame me or the tiger, and the tiger is dead.”

Jōnen shrinks into his shirt but can’t withdraw his damaged arm from the healer’s grip so easily. “No,” he manages after a moment. “I know it’s my fault. And I know you and Yori-nee healed me a lot more than Mama thought was possible. I should thank you.”

“But you’re still upset. It’s okay to be upset when you’re hurt. It’s not okay to take it out on others, that just hurts them too.” Sasuke releases Jōnen’s arm to focus on the knee and leg, “If you’re in pain you should say so. We don’t have stronger herbs but there’s Genjutsu that can block a lot of your pain without knocking you all the way out. And since you’re not allowed to be walking anyway, you aren’t likely to hurt yourself and not notice.”

Ikoma doesn’t laugh as his son goes through many emotions before opening his mouth to say, “I’m useless.”

Sasuke snorts. “You’re six. No one is expecting you to storm the Senju compound tomorrow. Give your knee time to heal before you condemn yourself to life as a scarecrow. It looks good to me, and I have seen a few shattered bones in my time.”

“What do you know!” Jōnen bites out, “How will I learn any real techniques if I can’t make hand seals? _Useless!_ ”

“You sure?”

“Yes! I’ve seen my cousins practicing and- _How are you doing that!_ ”

Ikoma doesn’t suppress the laugh this time, because watching the deliberately slowed march of one handed signs fold chakra into a second tiny dragon made of water is a delight. The dragons wrap around Sasuke’s wrists, wings fluttering and tiny fangs ready to strike.

“You don’t need both hands to mold chakra if you know how. You’ll just have to learn one-handed from the start,” Sasuke smiles and brings one dragon close enough for Jōnen to poke at as the other vanishes back into vapor. “It’ll give you something to work on while you heal up.”

“You’ll teach me?” Jōnen is focused now, despair abandoned.

“Of course. Morale is important to healing, and we want you to heal up strong.”

Jōnen’s attempt at a hug is awkward, as he can’t push himself forward into it, but Sasuke meets him halfway and they manage.

Ikoma stays for the first part of the lesson, just enough to get a good idea of how each hand sign is formed. Half to help when Jōnen wants to practice between healer visits and half for himself. A master never stops learning.

Ikoma has a good feeling, but he does need to get some work done at the forge today so excuses himself. He’ll stay for another session in a few days, out of curiosity and to offer a lesson or two of his own.

* * *

The roof tiles are harder grip with chakra than trees and Maru doesn’t know _why_. Sasuke-nii agrees but won’t explain, which is more annoying because it means there’s a reason, but that he’s supposed to figure it out by observing _somehow_. It’s good training to have to stick _and_ balance at an angle while they work through the exercises, so he doesn’t whine too much. Just a little. Because the tiles are often _wet_ so early in the morning.

Maru likes the new exercises so he’s practicing- they’re harder than the ones he should be doing with the other kids in this class, but he enjoys the stretch and strength he gets from these so he continues.

He isn’t good at moving his chakra to match when he first tries each new stretch, but Sasuke-nii doesn’t expect him to be and just talks him through every exercise until he gets it. Together they’re stringing more poses together every day he visits, and eventually Maru will be able to follow along through the whole song.

Sasuke-nii explains more in an hour than most of the cats do in a month, so the roof-tiles omission must be deliberate.

Maru scowls up at the ceiling of the teaching hall as he carefully places both hands on the ground and flips into a back bend. He _will_ figure this out without being told. But why would tiles be less accepting of chakra than wood? Was it the tiles or the trees that were to blame? He is as naturally suspicious of trees as any Uchiha of his generation, of course. Perhaps they made things easy in order to lure you in.

He ignores the boy trying to get his attention through all the hissing, but looks over when he hears his name. “What?”

“You’re in the wrong move, stupid,” Takeru informs him.

That obviously doesn’t deserve a response, so he stares, still upside down, to see if Takeru will say more. Maru knows he isn’t following along. He hasn’t been since near the beginning. If Takeru only noticed when Maru did the back arch then Takeru may need his eyes checked.

Takeru shows deference by averting his gaze, and Maru accepts it as admitting that Takeru is in fact the stupid one in this conversation.

The rest of the class is on their toes, flowing fire chakra to their fingertips. _Boring._ Maru finishes his walkover and hums a snatch of the warm up song, bringing chakra into his own fingertips and sending swirls of wind spinning through the lines of children like a litter of playful kittens.

The teacher isn’t amused, but teachers never are.

* * *

Senju Maki is not the fastest, smartest, or most powerful warrior in her clan. What she has is patience, practicality, and pragmatic detachment from tradition when the situation calls for it. As a child she had the chakra reserves and aptitude to be an educated, respected warrior instead of farmer and she grabbed the chance with both hands. As a warrior she’s managed to stay alive through luck and honing her versatility. Her specialty is Ninjutsu, and while she’s better at water and earth than the other elements, she does not spurn any of them because depending on the situation she might need a type advantage more than speed.

She angled to join Tobirama’s squad specifically so that she wouldn’t have to fight her way any higher or forever be pushing off those who would challenge her- who would expect her to do anything but obediently follow where the clan’s best tactical mind and second strongest fighter led her? She could work on honing her own techniques while only worrying about actual enemies.

Maki didn’t expect her esteemed squad leader to learn the first lesson of Uchiha _over a decade late!_

Never trust what you see. Or Sense, in his case.

She’d done a little better against the hat-menace ambush than her squad-mates; she got no warning before the trap was sprung but managed to react enough to be in mid jump when she was caught in a living loop of wire and pinned to a tree. It was nice wire-work, Maki appreciated the skill as much as the mottled design that broke up the wire outline, once she had a chance to look at it. It was not _Uchiha_ wire, but still better than most wire Senju could access- perhaps this is the quality of wire an Uchiha is willing to abandon.

Maki caught a glimpse of blue and gold straw as the Obake flitted close to make sure she was secure but unharmed, lifting his hat to check his work. Which was so strange she asked, “Really?”

The Uchiha gave her a wink and vanished again.

The wire was trapped such that whenever she tried to use chakra, it tightened. Since one of the loops was around her throat, she’d stopped experimenting after the second try and thought about her situation. There wasn’t anything keeping her from yelling, so yell she did.

She heard movement nearby, muffled words and the sound of water stripping a tree bare. And her squad leader shouting in frustration. Maki pretended not to hear that, but she’s only human.

She’d laughed at Tobirama’s hair. It wasn’t her fault! His usual dandelion puff had been coated with sticky sap that hardened into spikes before they got back to the compound and all the water jutsu in the world couldn’t budge it. Watching Senju Tobirama set a torrent of spinning water at his own head was the sort of entertainment you couldn’t get in a theater! Of course she laughed.

And of course she was getting punished for it now.

This is the second round of four-on-one and they are no closer to bringing Tobirama down. He’s strong, but worse than that, he’s better at using the field than they are. He’s splitting them up and positioning himself such that even when they surround him they can’t use powerful techniques without running the risk of hitting each other.

There is a way to deal with that, Maki just needs to bounce around to let everyone else know.

Shurou looks skeptical when she gets to him but one arm-smack directly on his freshest bruise and he acquiesces to her superior idea.

Time to get this show started.

Maki will have to start this off, so she focuses her chakra on her feet to glide on top of the grass and starts to sing, “Oh tell me swift messenger, why do you hurry so? Hush and I will say, she said, her pale eyes aglow. I bear orders from the captain, get you ready quick and soon,” She tosses her sword to Chigi- forcing Tobirama to dodge in a different line than he wants to, _ha-_ and gathers chakra in her hands for a moment before casting it wide in a net over the clearing, “For we all must be together by the rising of the moon!”

Tobirama dodges the net, but that’s fine, it still falls in a wide arc and pulls all the ambient water to the ground, much too heavy to hang in the air. And so long as she can maintain her focus should continue to do the same to any new water that appears in the zone. She aims a kick at his side as she goes by and dodges another sword swipe at her head. She falls back to aim distraction pebbles at her squad leader’s head and clear the way.

Chigi starts on the next verse, this one simple repetition of the refrain about the rising of the moon, and claims the initiative for elemental techniques- until he hands the song off the rest of the team has to move around him. He uses several earth techniques to push Tobirama back into the area affected by her net, which is not something they planned but much better cooperation already.

Maki know that her net is not as subtle as she’d like, but it’s new and she’s hoping her squad leader will not be able to divine it’s _purpose_ until he tries a jutsu and it gets disrupted.

Koenma is enthusiasm personified, but sadly can’t carry a tune in a bucket, so his verse about the banshee’s deadly wail is on point. He makes up for that and a lot of Uzumaki quirks with the widest range of element affinities on their squad- it’s too bad that Wind is worse than useless against the Uchiha. Against Tobirama it’s great, and finally forces him to use a water wall to deflect the wind blades Koenma sends after him.

Her water-falling net doesn’t collapse the water wall completely, but it does force it down into a knee-high water hedge. Maki will take the shocked look Tobirama shoots her as payment for this entire fiasco. Koenma’s cheer is expected, but also invigorating.

Shurou knows his moment to pounce from behind, though he doesn’t sing, using his sword and superior reach to keep Tobirama busy.

Fine. Maki thrusts her chin up and sings, “There beside the singing river, that mass of warriors keen! Far above their waiting weapons hung the shining traitor queen-” she slides into the earth, trusting her teammates to pile in now that they have the advantage. She reaches up and they’ve managed to keep at least one of Tobirama’s feet on the ground. Good enough. She pulls, softening the earth around her victim as she drags him down. He stops struggling once she has his waist deep. She resurfaces in time to hear Tobirama congratulate them.

_Ha!_

Then he looks at her with intent and she gives him her best blank face. It’s like having a staring contest with a cat, but Maki is determined to win this too.

Koenma, bless him, breaks the moment by demanding to know about her new technique. Talking about that distracts Tobirama until lunch and she escapes all talk about squad leadership roles for another day.

* * *

Sasuke thinks that Tajima intended to keep the storage scrolls longer, just to maintain his position of control. But the truth is that Sasuke has one pair of sandals to wear outside the house and they were close to done before he got launched into the past. Their current state is unbecoming to the pride of the Uchiha.

So his scrolls and his hat find their way to him. Benten claims the hat for a week before returning it with a few new stains, but he doesn’t mind.

He has his wardrobe back, but the joke is on Tajima: his second best sandals will get _just_ as many stares for their weirdness as his old worn ones- most Uchiha do not own armored sandals that rise to the knee, and certainly not in Wind-tan with maroon accents. His third best shoes are gray-white furred boots meant for snow- no way is he wearing those with spring already moving into summer. Perhaps he can find some way to trade the lumps of silver that used to be coins for goods and services, like the urban dweller that he is and is stuck pretending not to be.

Most of his other things are still not period appropriate, except the kimono and yukata, which he’s not keen to ruin by wearing to the Healer’s Hall. He can wear the plain ones for spinning and weaving lessons, he thinks. Kita will know.

Sasuke does pull out his traveling wardrobe and the few plain blue Jounin shirts and the trousers he modified to archaic ties- the fabric is coarser than the things he’s been given to wear, but they are tough and made to be scrubbed free of blood and bile. They’ll do.

Sasuke stacks all his clothes onto the shelves on his side of the room with care, but it still looks so barren- he keeps going.

His has his spare katana back, sealed next to his chakra saber- which is proof they cracked the seal security well enough to add things to the wrong sections, as he normally keeps his swords separate for ease of grabbing the right one. He fixes _that_ straight away. The arsenal of tools and weapons that he didn’t keep in his weapons holsters is still sorted properly, which is a relief and a time saver. He finds a larger supply of dried noodles, flat breads, and jerky than he remembers packing; possibly the work of one of his teammates less fond of fresh greens than he is… which would be all of them, probably. His Anbu issue armor and camping gear are intact, too. He decides to put none of this out where Maru can get to it. Best to make it as hard as possible for that kitten to indulge in temptation.

In the stationary section, Sasuke is surprised to find all the letters he’d deemed not incriminating and thus safe enough to risk keeping present and accounted for, even the silly postcards picked out by Isobu. He doesn’t put out his letters to get riffled through by anyone with access to his room, but his small library of second and third hand novels fill up the shelves and will be easy to tip back into the scroll if he has to run. Also his portable desk full of paper and writing supplies.

But when he absently counts, he notices what’s missing.

Half his fountain pens.

Of the twenty-one he started out from Konoha with, he knows he lost the pretty blue and white one to Haku, as planned. That doesn’t explain where the other ten went.

Ten high end fountain pens designed to last for years of being taken apart to be refilled or have their nibs replaced. Or six months of ninjas chewing on them, throwing them at each other, and otherwise abusing them. Gone.

He’s at a loss for _why?_

Plundered? Or missing across time and space?

Sasuke goes through the rest of the compartments in case they got misplaced and marvels at the amount of stuff he managed to accumulate in a pair of scrolls that Kako insists are far inferior to her hammer space. His entire over-sized spice rack occupies it’s own section. It was an apartment warming gift from Chouji that’s kept stocked by his various far flung correspondents and friends returning from missions because he’s ‘hard to shop for’ according to Ino. The bottle of Kankurou’s favorite hot sauce that he’d stolen while they’d planned the hit on Sasori and never returned is tucked in next to Fuu’s favorite fruit jelly and Sasuke is hit with a wave of homesickness so strong he has to stop and meditate until he gets his balance back.

He finds the Annotated Special Edition Bingo Book Zabuza gave him as a gift- it’s almost as entertaining as some of the novels, though far fouler in it’s language as it heckles both living and dead. An outdated nautical chart of water country liberally doodled with mini Isobu and Saiken is folded into the back. Sasuke didn’t put the elevation surveys of Frost country disguised as landscape paintings in here, but he’ll bet that Towa stole them back from War Ops after the relevant info was copied onto the big maps. He’ll put the landscapes up on the wall and if anyone recognizes what they really are he can say it was for a job and not be lying.

He dithers over the notebook for seal notes Shikako gave him before leaving it out- he has a lot of things to write down about the stitched seals he’s found in the mending basket and in the bandages he’s being taught to make. _Spinning chakra thread and embroidery seals- but if it’s my way home then I’ll learn it._ Weaving is part of the package, so he’ll do that too. He’s _appalled_ at the amount of work that goes into one bandage and has regrets over the amount of shirts destroyed over the years. At least most of them were machine-made, so he wasn’t destroying a specific person’s hard work.

The pens are gone. He’ll have to make do with what he has until he can craft his own way home.

* * *

Sannosawa has read about seals etched into stone, but none of his other students have the casual mastery of earth chakra to carve a modified version of the cold box seal into a rock to see if it will boil water in a bucket. _After_ half burying the bucket in the ground to contain any accidental explosions- apparently Sasuke-san’s prior experiences with Fuuin testing left a mark.

It does boil. And once the water boils dry, it stops. A minute later the stone is cool enough to touch.

“Stops on it’s own. That’s handy.”

“Air doesn’t boil, after all,” Sannosawa says, examining the stone more closely. The flowing spikes style is closer to the scroll that held Naka Two-swords body, and he wonders why the peculiarities of a personal style would show in that scroll and this chakra carved stone, but otherwise hide behind bland dictionary brushwork.

More stone blanks went into the bucket for cleaning and have to cool before they can be used for anything, along with fetching more water, so Sannosawa goes inside to see if his other students have arrived. They have, and are eager to bring their desks out to the engawa to enjoy the sun and the novelty of boiling rocks.

One of the sanitized stones is suffering under the tapping of a bit of a steel wire to rough in edges of the shapes before the chakra is applied, so it’s safe to have the students introduce themselves. They’re a mix of three future Outguard trainees trying to get a head start on Fuuinjutsu training and two Lineage heirs who need the more esoteric kanji for their records and letter writing. They’re all younger, and none of them think to question the new student’s right to be testing seal variations: it’s says good things about their manners, but not about their ability to question how the world works.

Sasuke’s next stone is smaller, with a hole in the top so it can hang from a bit of thread, and says **Maintain Temperature, Steep Ocha.** It gets passed around to be examined by all and Sannosawa agrees that they should test it. Sato digs into his umbrella bag for his tea pot after the bucket is jeered down. The water in the pot heats right up to not quite boiling and stays there until they pull the stone out of the pot by it’s string.

The third iteration also has a hole for a string, but simply says **Tea Without Ceremony.** Dipped into the pot with the water and the ground tea, it steeps and swirls the matcha to perfection as they watch and then stops producing heat or movement.

Sannosawa and his usual class drink it without Sasuke, who excused himself to meet a returning Outguard squad with wounded as soon as he came out of the concentration required to create the seal.

"I understand how this leads to this,” Meiki points at the standard cold box seal they’ve been working on copying out: **Maintain Temperature, Snowflake.** Then at the stone carved with **Maintain Temperature, Boiling**. “It’s changing the affect from things inside the box to water the rock touches, but the basic formula is the same. And controlling the heat of the water to less than a full boil is similar to how you can change the cold box to a hot box by leaving off the snowflake.”

Sannosawa nods, making an encouraging, “Ah, and?”

But how did he jump from that to one that swirls the tea around and stops when it’s ready? Can you really visualize all of that into three kanji on the first try?” Meiki stabs her hand at the **Tea Without Ceremony** stone.

Sato huffs at her, “Have you ever had to _do_ Tea Ceremony? You have to focus on the timing of your swirls _just so_ or it’s not elegant or calming or aesthetic enough and you have to do it again until your Shisho is satisfied. Except Grandmothers are never satisfied.” he lifts his teacup in a silent salute toward the Healing Hall, “It was probably cathartic to make a non-ceremonial tea rock. Hey, do you think Sasuke-senpai will mind if I copy this onto the bottom of a tea bowl?”

We can ask him, but I bet your _mental_ tea ceremony wouldn’t be up to your grandmother’s standards either.”

"You’re so mean, Meiki-chan! Accurate, but mean.”

“Do you think a seal could be made for bath temperature, or is that too subjective?” Takame asks, derailing the argument with her usual smoothness.

Sannosawa smiles as they discuss possible kanji and symbol combinations for instantly hot field baths. He uses the topic to teach them some uncommon kanji related to volcanic activity and hot springs. It’s a good lesson, even if they won’t be growing a new hot spring in his yard this season, they’re thinking new thoughts.

He will keep the extra stones in with his teaching supplies, for next time.

* * *

For a printed coat, it’s impressive. Izuna will admit that without an issue. He just thinks its as weird as its owner.

Izuna is at home trying to read when Sasuke arrives back from picking it up, and the fuss Benten and Midori make over it is impossible to ignore.

The central figures are three bipedal spirits -a Fox, a Deer, and a Wolf- sitting around a table playing cards and cheating wildly. Some of the cards are normal, like the Deer’s Ino-Shika-Cho, but others have strange symbols Izuna has never seen, no doubt some code known only to the face stealer. The tatami around the gamblers is littered with more symbolic possessions while through the open door behind them is a view of the cliffs not far from the Naka river crossing. The river hidden in the sleeves is half stars and half water and inhabited by a strange mix of sea slug, tanuki, turtle and dragonfly for reasons not explained. If the sea slug represents a specific person, Izuna hopes they give Sasuke a good smack if they ever find out about it.

Benten and Midori are having a grand time pointing out details to each other- the Fox and the Deer have markings emphasizing their eyes, and so does the toad depicted on the Kitsune’s folding fan. The turtle’s shell has a snowflake pattern inside the hexagons. There’s a tiny piglet sleeping next to the potted bonsai tree with a ribbon around its neck. Oh, the Deer’s antlers have the same curve as the bat-wings of her kimono! Is that on purpose, Sasuke-nii? On and on, because the print makers are meticulous in reproducing all the details of the original art.

Sasuke pulls a drop spindle from his shoulder bag and starts spinning a thread- not particularly well, as far as Izuna can see, but with determination and a steady stream of chakra in his fingertips. At least he isn’t humming or singing his nonsense songs for once.

Father and Madara come home and that’s when the house goes tense again. Izuna isn’t sure how it starts, but when he gets back from the outhouse Benten and Midori have colonized Madara while Kita and Father engage in one of their periodic stare downs. The new coat and Sasuke’s spindle lie abandoned on the floor near the engawa- along with a single, familiar leaf that could have blown in from outside, but Izuna knows did not.

Best not to interject himself where he has no leverage.

Izuna finds Sasuke in their room dumping his shelves of novels onto the floor. Strange, but stress takes people oddly. At least nothing is on fire. “This isn’t about you, or the coat. They spar like this about many things. It will pass.”

“I know, but it doesn’t have to be about me to affect me. Your father is bad enough, but I didn’t intend to impose where I have no means of reciprocation.” He touches the edge of a piece of paper Izuna hadn’t noticed and the pile of novels disappears into a storage seal, “I should never have come here.”

Izuna can’t have heard that right. “People don’t just _leave the clan.”_

“Sure they do. It’s called joining the trading branch. But that’s not what I meant.”

“Then explain, because you’re not making any sense. Everyone gets a coat.”

“But not such a nice one, apparently,” Sasuke says, his gaze flickering over to Izuna’s own recovered coat lining on the wall.

“Silk lining is an upgrade from cotton, but it’s not restricted like the patchwork, it’s just more expensive,” Izuna rolls his eyes, “I’ve seen your visiting clothes. You can afford it.”

“Except when I asked about costs I was told repeatedly not to concern myself with it.”

Izuna hisses through his teeth. He can hear the Kita’s words even though Sasuke doesn’t mimic her voice, and it meshes with her words to Father he overheard on his way through the main room, “Kita-chan paying for gifts again.”

Sasuke nods, running his hands roughly though his hair, “But if I try to pay Kita-san or Minami-san back _now_ neither would accept it. Ikoma-shisho might take the silver, but just for a lesson on soft wire.”

“If you try to use money,” Izuna scoffs, “running off will just make you a worse asshole than you already are.”

“I didn’t ask her for anything like this!"

“Well, no one asked you to show up either, but we’re doing our best to cope.”

“Maaaaaa.” Sasuke slumps forward onto his portable writing desk rather than sealing it into storage. “I didn’t expect better than this. I didn’t. I just forgot for a while. I’ve lived my life in old clothes, with a few exceptions like the fighting fish kimono; a coat made _for_ me was so novel I didn’t want to question it. But I can’t expect anyone to be kind to me for no reason, why would they?”

“No.” Izuna can’t let that misconception stand, it’s not fair to his friend. “No, when Kita-chan gives a gift it’s real. She knows other people use gifts as traps of obligation, but she doesn’t think that way unless someone points it out and then she hates it. We had a problem with the Daimyo’s wife wanting her to stay at court last year because Kita-chan gave her a whole kimono’s worth of her wild silk. Kita-chan had to dance around it to get Lady Murasaki to let her go. We were delayed for a few days coming back and Otou-sama was irritated about the whole thing.”

Sasuke takes a long minute to process that, eyes on Izuna but obviously looking back over his experiences with Kita. “That tracks,” he snorts, “It can be a gift for me and a poke in the nose for your father at the same time. Kita-san is elegant in her efficiency.”

“Kita-chan gave you a gift. Otou-sama’s reaction would be an after-thought,” he corrects the idiot. Though it doesn’t make sense, Izuna knows that Kita’s real gifts are given without expectation of return, “One she would have considered, but not the _point._ ”

“You seem very certain of that,” Sasuke muses.

Izuna _is._ Father pushes and Kita deflects, Father circles and she digs in her heels. She has to concede to his authority in many areas because he is the Outguard Head but she won’t give in to his prodding where his authority does not extend. Which- hmm. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. I wonder if that’s what she meant to do.”

Sasuke rubs at his forehead, “What now?”

“Well, looking at it one way, Kita-chan’s Homeguard Head and by putting her in charge of you Otou-sama ceded authority over you. He’s still head of Amaterasu, so has authority as your Lineage head, but you could petition great-Uncle Moreya to bring your grievances with him to the Homeguard head on your behalf.”

“Which would be Kita-san again?”

“Yes.”

Sasuke’s eyebrows both go up this time. “Uchiha family court, with Kita-san as the magistrate. You’re serious.”

“We take it very seriously. It’s why we’re still a clan and not five warring factions,” Izuna informs his wayward cousin.

“That’s debatable,” the ingrate mutters into his palm.

Izuna carries on despite the commentary- it’s not like the new comer knows what he’s talking about, “It might convince Otou-sama that you are actually integrating. You don’t act like a clansman, so he’s suspicious of you.”

“So a clansman wouldn’t put up with his nonsense, a clansman would be disputing his nonsense in Uchiha family court,” Sasuke sounds almost amused now, “Noted. Even if it doesn’t work it will be worth trying for the novelty.”

Izuna does not grind his teeth because he only gets one adult set. His experience with breaking one of his molars as a child had taught him better. “Otou-sama likes knowing how people will react to things. He still doesn’t know you because you’re a cryptic secretive ass, and since you don’t react like a clansman would, he’ll keep pushing until he’s got enough information. As Outguard Head, that’s his responsibility. But Great-Uncle can teach you the system and how to behave less like you were raised by youkai; he’s Lineage Elder and entitled to do so since Otou-sama isn’t.”

“As Tajima-sama has comprehensively self-sabotaged all attempts to teach me anything, that’s just as well,” Sasuke smiles and it reminds Izuna of Kita at her most obstinate.

Izuna sighs, because Father is just protecting the clan and he’s sure the hearing will show that, but the process will help both sides better understand the conflict and resolve it, “Clansmen who aren’t Outguard have protections in place to prevent bullying by warriors. I don’t know what they all are -I am a warrior- but I know they exist and there are penalties for misbehavior.”

Sasuke tilts his head, thoughtful, “Oh. Thank you, Izuna-san. I didn’t know.” And for once he sounds perfectly sincere.

Izuna stands up, “Come on, dinner’s waiting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The Rising of the Moon” is a popular Irish song about the 1798 Rebellion in Ireland. I have butchered it for my own ends. 
> 
> Thanks to Umei for so much help with Izuna’s dialogue at the end
> 
> I did not expect this one to be this long, but characters kept popping up and insisting.


	9. Win, Lose, Draw, Troll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're going to be reckless, be thorough and conscientious about it. -Team Red, probably

The storm arrives on the day of Sasuke’s court with Tajima, and lingers for a week.

It’s the remnants of a tropical storm rolling north from the coast and carrying enough rain in dark thunderheads to soak the entirety of Fire country. Sasuke sensed it several days prior during morning warm-ups and warned everyone at breakfast.

“You don’t think the rain will arrive for three or four _days,_ but you can sense it already?” Tajima eyed him with a mix of skepticism and interest.

“It’s a weather system at least a hundred kilometers across, it’s not subtle,” Sasuke grumbled into his porridge.

“How beneficent of you to share your insights with us,” Tajima had said in his casually cutting tone, “So rare and unexpected. Is there anything else you’ve noticed, since you’re in such a generous mood, Sasuke-kun?”

“There’s a fox sniffing around in the woods north of Odori-san’s farm. I was going to take Maru-bou out to hunt it down later unless you think we’ll need backup,” Sasuke had snarked because there was only so much fear he could feel before more failed to penetrate, and Tajima had not let up since the spat with Kita over the coat lining.

“No, I’m sure you’ll fight bravely to defend the chickens.” Tajima rolled his eyes.

One of the frustratingly familiar problems with Tajima was that many of the incidents were almost funny, if you didn’t know the full context of ongoing harassment they fell into. Like back at the academy, before they graduated and everyone had to grow up.

But the chickens _did_ need defending, and he could accrue favor with the cats by taking care of the fox before it struck. It would be a good test of Maru’s current stealth and tracking, too.

Instead of continuing the argument Sasuke pictured Haruno Sakura swinging an entire ship’s mast like a flyswatter to destroy her opponent in the Mist Chunin exams and reminded himself that one didn’t have to be Tsunade to be a medic _and_ a bad-ass. If he took another moment to picture Sakura applying the mast to Tajima’s face, that was his business.

*

Moreya-oji shows up a little early in, stepping carefully to stay under his waxed paper umbrella as the first scout cloud full of rain arrives to dump water on the compound.

The court itself feels strangely detached- Sasuke’s serving tea because he needs something to do with his hands, but all his talking is done by Moreya. Tajima and Moreya don’t speak to other, each addressing Kita in her role as mediator. The rhythm of grievance and defense, desired change and negotiated compromise is steady as the water falling from the sky and comfortingly how Moreya described it when they met.

Moreya lives in a small house near the mews with a great-niece housekeeper and her three children calling him grandpa. When Sasuke showed up the afternoon after Izuna’s suggestion, they sat on the engawa overlooking the garden while Sasuke stumbled his way through his request.

Moreya was patient when he would reach for words- to describe a technique or make a report Sasuke has learned to be concise but thorough, but his own emotions trip him up. How to describe Tajima’s harassment without sounding petulant and thin-skinned? But he _is_ too sensitive to this sort of attack, to never feeling safe and relaxed where he sleeps, to spending meals under scrutiny, expected to be a perfect Uchiha prodigy when he is only Sasuke, only ever Sasuke under it all. He misses his mask. He misses his team.

Sasuke explained to Moreya that he has a bad reaction to other people’s Sharingan. By bad he means it’s a toss up over panicking or attacking. And with Tajima pushing for him to be useful rather than a waste of space, he can be helpful more quickly with the healers then attempting re-training with the Outguard and pushing himself further into crazy town!

Moreya had frowned and asked about the specifics of what Tajima said.

It _shouldn’t_ feel so strange to be taken seriously. Perhaps if he’d accused anyone but Tajima, but the Outguard Head’s tyranny was hardly a secret to the rest of the clan, however he dressed it up in clever gambits. Sasuke’s introduction to the Outguard was the most public but not the most painful example of Tajima’s insinuations about his lack of worth.

Moreya presents his case and rebuts Tajima’s justifications. It doesn’t matter how high his chakra levels are or any hypothetical combat training, no one can drag him into the Outguard against his will. Tajima put him under Kita’s purview, and Sasuke has chosen to remain there by joining the healers. Tajima even has to stop the bullying.

Part of Sasuke is still a bit confused that he’s been bullied.

After his clan died he’d been diligently objectified by a good portion of the academy, either as _the_ person to beat in taijutsu or as a grand tragic figure to crush on. The gossip and stalking had driven him to spend more time in the compound and it’s private training grounds than was healthy just to escape the feeling of being constantly judged. None of the adults that remained had taken it seriously, even when he’d had to punch an older girl who’d tried to kiss him when he was ten. She’d been twelve and had inches on him, but Mizuki-sensei had just laughed and called him _shy._ Sasuke had taken a lot of joy in kicking that bastard’s face in when he escaped from prison.

If all of that didn’t count as bullying, then how did one person’s words?

*

It’s not the lightning or the thunder that has Benten upset, though it’s a handy excuse. She’s been throwing him and Tajima unhappy looks ever since the incident with the coat, and after Moreya takes his leave and Tajima glides out like an inscrutably pleased cloud, she erupts.

Sasuke is familiar with Kino’s occasional meltdowns, but despite Yoshino’s influence he’s very Nara about it. Benten is upset but not making any actual demands. Her right to wail into his second best kimono and kick her feet in protest every time he tries to apologize is just assumed. Sasuke tries rubbing her back and petting her hair like his mother used to do to soothe him. This doesn’t have any immediate outward affect but he can feel something in Benten’s chakra shift so he keeps it up.

Kita would have been faster and better at this, but she doesn’t intervene, just keeps an eye on them as she starts preparing dinner. Benten does eventually calm enough to make a request, so Sasuke ends up singing the cucumber song and the pirate song and the _other_ pirate song and he’s about the start the one about the frogs when Hime drops from the rafters.

Instant delight.

Benten and Hime are deep in cahoots so he has to sit and translate when Hime’s desire to converse outstrips her human vocabulary, which is everything but _Yes, C_ _uuuuu_ _ute!_ and _Cease_ _this behavior at once_ _!_ Sasuke isn’t sure where she learned that last one.

He’s lured them both into a string game- that is, he is trying to make the figures faster than Hime can unravel them with her paws, when Izuna returns. There is something about how very woeful he looks from his soaking, almost as ridiculous as his attempt to use fire and wind chakra to dry himself off.

“Are you trying to turn yourself into a steamed bun?”

“I’m not going to drip all over the floor,” Izuna snipes back.

Sasuke snorts, handing the string-loop to Benten and stepping over to the genkan, “I do owe you for the excellent advice. Hold still.”

Izuna is so startled by his sincerity that he freezes for a moment, but that gives Sasuke a chance to pull the excess water out of Izuna’s hair and clothes with cleaning jutsu number three. The water forms into a good sized ball between his hands that he swirls around a few times before dumping it back out through the open door.

*

Izuna blinks at Sasuke playing with the water, a perfect illustration of his point about how very strange his cousin acts. “You and Otou-sama reconciled?”

“Not at all,” Sasuke announces with a rueful smile, “but, per the judgment, I am _very definitely Not Outguard_ and he is supposed to stop the bullying. All thanks to your suggestion and Moreya-oji _,_ Izuna-san.”

Izuna looks over to Kita, who graces him with a warm smile. So something good must have happened, right? But Kita should have corrected Sasuke if he misspoke.

_Stop the Bullying. By Otou-sama._

This is too strange. He retreats to his room to take off his armor and put it out of his mind.

* * *

Maybe it would have been easier for Sasuke if he hadn’t just come in from his rounds, glad for both his hat and the new pair of geta he’d secured from Yori’s cousin Chisaki. She and her adopted sister had been more than happy to accept a few silver lumps in exchange for kitting him out with new footwear. A win for commerce even if Kita had eyed him suspiciously.

A downside to the heart-hiding seals is that reading the energy of the building requires going in. So when Sasuke sees some children being ushered out while he sheds the water from his coat and hat on the engawa, he doesn’t think anything of it.

He goes inside to see Madara in a plain white hemp kimono, cradling Hatori gently in his arms as the young man bleeds out all over him. Oizuru is standing watchful attendance on this ceremonial death, but that doesn’t make it less horrible.

_Uchiha killing Uchiha._

Hatori had been suffering from complications of a crushed and ruptured bowel that they weren’t able to deal with, despite the many hours over the past week they’d spent trying new things with his permission.

Madara shifts with Hatori’s slackening grip on him, gentle as handling a down-soft quail chick. But the movement exposes the bloody gash in Hatori’s throat and the slow spinning of Madara’s Sharingan, keeping Hatori locked in a Genjutsu of painlessness as he passes.

_Uchiha killing Uchiha in a dream._

Something moon-silver and rusty reaches out of the lower reaches of Sasuke’s brain and squeezes the breath from his lungs.

_Run, otouto. Cling to your pathetic life and run._

No one is looking at him, he hasn’t announced his return. What few eyes are present are on this Farewell, though only Madara is fool enough to have his Sharingan recording it. Oh kami, how had he not realized what **Farewell** _meant?_

Sasuke reaches out his senses, but there’s no one in the hall that need his help. It would be another day of spinning and sewing practice, since they worked on the new healing techniques yesterday. Nothing urgent.

No one sees him vanish under stealth explicitly designed to defeat Mangekyo.

No one sees him run.

*

Sasuke pauses his mindless flight up on top of Hokage mountain. Despite or because of the imbalance in energies gathering to pull lightning from the sky to the ground. He’s not thinking, but looking back at it later he’d say that was why he went there.

The storm sings with potential, and he feels so helpless to fight all the death around him.

Wrapping a particular boulder in chakra and opening a path to the clouds for the lightning to follow is easier to do than to explain. He’s watched lightning strikes with his Sharingan since he developed it, and once he realized that the sky was _never_ actually at the same electrical potential as the ground, lightning from a blue sky was another natural disaster added to Team Red’s arsenal. (Shikako had been exceptionally gleeful when he’d brought it up and tried naming it Kirin, the Divine Giraffe of Justice. It was officially Lightning Path because Sasuke retained a crumb of dignity. Somewhere, deep inside.)

Breaking the boulder in half with a crashing blast of raw power that deafens him for a good half-minute despite his chakra bracing invigorates him and grounds him in the present-past.

He turns his gaze toward the Senju compound. Tsunade is hailed as a great medic, but she was not the first in her clan by a long mark. Maybe they have a technique that could help with busted organs.

*

The Senju Compound is closer to a clan enclave like Sasuke is used to, close built houses rising two or three stories with trees scattered throughout to prevent erosion and easy spying. The adjacent farmland is primarily rice paddies rather than the dry field crops of the Uchiha farmers. Sasuke makes a note of this in the part of his brain that’s wired to note potential areas for sabotage; a self supporting community would have different soft points than one that relied on imports, but he still spots several large store-houses.

He can’t sense Tobirama in the compound, but Sasuke does not relax his chakra masking as he sneaks along the roof of the healing hall and tucks himself under the eaves to drip dry and take stock. While not a full scale hospital, the Senju healing hall is older and larger than the Uchiha equivalent, with two wings coming off the central receiving area and many more rooms. Sasuke sits with his star crystal humming under his skin as he looks for a signs of a library or records room.

It seems that most of the east wing is used for training and research versus the west wing’s long term care and dormitories, so he focuses his search in the east. Shifting his attention from room to room without one of his hawks as a focus is damned hard but like the lightning bolt, it keeps his mind on his goal.

Drain boards and the lingering scent of fish being tormented; no.

An exam room with the mixed emotional imprints of spectating students; no.

Paper, ink, and lingering frustration; bingo, as Shikako would say and never explain.

Unfortunately, by the time he works his way around to the window of the library, someone is inside. Someone with control as refined as Tsunade’s and distressingly large chakra reserves - _it’s_ _just_ _not_ _fair for someone with so much chakra to be so self contained_ \- and the mental texture of coiled steel under fur that is a hallmark of actual tigers and deadly ninja. If someone smashed Tsunade _and_ Naruto _and_ Mei together, with an emphasis on the stubbornness of all three, you might end up with someone like this.

Whoever she is, she doesn’t give any sign of sensing him but she’s pacing through the small library space like she suspects something. Sasuke decides not to risk it. He can come back later with an actual plan.

There’s plenty more Senju compound to case in the meantime.

*

Hashirama sighs as he lets himself out of the clan hall and feels the warm rain on his head. Mito-chan and her relatives had warned them about the storm so they were prepared for it, but Tobi had insisted they check all the flood control measures for the vassals’ fields were still in place _all day_ yesterday. Everything was fine- if anything was wrong the farmers would have let them know!

Hashirama doesn’t mind the vassals, they are good people, but their chickens are evil. Yesterday one of the roosters attacked from ambush and slashed his toes before he’d snatched it up, then assaulted his hands and wrists for his gentle correction to its misbehavior. The offended squawking from the thankless bird _did not help_. Then a duck went for his knee and he’d had to retreat to not damage the valuable livestock that hated him for no good reason.

Today he escaped Tobi’s quest to Tanzaku-fu for some replacement part; his Bonsai need attention and the Uchiha aren’t likely to attack in this weather.

His bonsai shed is occupied when he arrives, with the most unexpected visitor. Hashirama smiles in welcome.

Sasuke sits at the work table running his fingers over the edges of a pot Touka had brought back from Iron as omiyage and looks up at Hashirama with cool disregard for his technical invasion of the Senju compound, “Hello Hashirama-san. Can you tell me why the cease fire ended?”

“It was only scheduled to last until Hanamatsuri, Sasuke-kun,” Hashirama takes the seat opposite Tobi’s friendly Obake.

Sasuke’s posture shifts and for a moment it feels like time stills as his voice goes soft “You will have to address me as Sasuke-san if you wish me to hear you, Hashirama-san. What was that?”

Hashirama pauses but Sasuke isn’t the first person to insist on being addressed so, “Okay Sasuke-san. The cease fire was only agreed to last until April.”

“And then the war started up again without discussion or thought?” the look he receives is a little confused, “I thought you wanted peace. What are you doing to make peace happen?”

Hashirama grins, he knew there had to be another Uchiha willing to listen to his ideas about peace. He and Madara’s dream could take root in another heart.

But after listening Sasuke-san asks him the same question again. “But what are you doing to make peace happen?”

“You don’t like my ideas?” Hashirama is hurt! Sasuke-san seemed very interested in the idea for a village when he brought it up.

“A thousand idle fancies are worth less then one act, Hashirama-san,” his words are still quiet, faintly accented but clear, “You didn’t strike me as an idler. It’s disappointing.”

Hashirama opens his mouth to protest but Sasuke-san has vanished in front of him. Not fair!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For every two words you see here, there is one in the waste bin. But we ride again on the giraffe of divine justice.


	10. Dead Run, Wing on Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasuke throw himself into healing, and fails to notice that he's running himself off an emotional cliff. Thankfully his summons are practiced in the art of catching. Also Mushroom hunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dead Run: sailing directly before the wind  
> Wing on Wing: when sailing before the wind, setting the jib to windward for balance

Izuna doesn’t flinch when one of Tobirama’s squad calls, “Hat menace!” and they all shift into more defensive postures, but he does growl. Sasuke popping out of nowhere and skidding through the middle of his squad’s formation like a lightning-greased ferret and then disappearing with Sukeari is so much bullshit, but Izuna has to focus on Tobirama’s renewed attempted to kill _him_ now that his wounded squad mentor has been removed from easy reach.

The Senju are distracted, wary of the muddy ground and the trees as if the environment might turn against _them_ for a change, and Izuna manages to make the white demon bleed for splitting his attention. Before he can capitalize on his advantage, the one who gave the menace warning calls for a retreat and wonder of wonders Tobirama _listens to her!_ Izuna tries to get a look at the Senju’s new second to see if it’s the same girl who threw a rock at his head once, but Tobirama summons one last wave of water from nowhere just to blind him because he’s an asshole, but a smart one.

No matter, he’ll consult with his squad and they’ll figure it out. Tobirama usually has the same group of warriors with him on these raids, unlike the forever shifting Senju mission groups. They let the Senju go this time without his needing to say it- they’re a man down and pursuit would favor the enemy.

Izuna _expects_ to find another mentor holding on by a thread, deathly pale in a pile of bloody bandages. Instead Sukeari’s alert and pressed up against Sasuke’s shoulder when the squad finds them. His lower coat lining is stained red-brown where he was lying on it but his pants have miraculously cleansed themselves around the leg wound in the few minutes since he was stolen away from the fight.

“Everyone else alright?” Sukeari asks over the dreadful sounds of his arm popping back into place. Sasuke must have him in a sweet Genjutsu to be so blithe about his current situation.

No one else has wounds of note and they manage to assure Sukeari of that by the time Sasuke finishes with his work. After clearing away his tools Sasuke hauls the older man up over his shoulders to carry back. Startled protests erupt from several quarters, but the healer only addresses his captive, “Sukeari-san, that wound isn’t well enough to be walked on yet. Let’s not tempt fate.”

Izuna expects blood to blossom all over Sukeari’s leg from the movement and jostling, but it doesn’t happen. Kita’s blood-clotting bandage seals are amazing, but he’s not sure they work that fast on their own.

“We’re lucky you we close enough to lend a healing hand, Sasuke-san,” Jakuchi says, though he still looks like he wants to take the burden of carrying Sukeari back.

“I was out hunting mushrooms when I felt someone get stabbed and came as fast as I could,” Sasuke waves Jakuchi off. As if swooping in to probably save Sukeari’s life is just to be expected. Healers are supposed to stay _in_ the compound.

Izuna wonders if his doppelganger would answer questions without deflecting or downplaying if he tossed him into a Tsukuyomi filled with fluffy quail to calm down for a simulated week or if it would take something more drastic, like Madara holding him still for the girls to tickle. Good grief. The way Sukeari was bending his wounded leg to get comfy, you might think- _you might think it was fixed._

But Izuna doesn’t know anything. He was too busy fighting Tobirama to know how bad the leg wound actually was, and what he knows about healing can be summarized as Apply Pressure, Bandage, Pray.

If he looks, he might find out something he’d rather not know. So he won’t. For a moment he wishes he could ask and get a real answer, because it would be nice to even out that advantage the Senju hold over them. But it’s wishful thinking, he has no evidence.

“Let’s go,” Izuna tries not to growl as he motions back towards the compound, and they take off at a quick jog. It was a short mission, but intense and the fight at the end did no one any good.

* * *

Planning a book-reading heist with cats as his only backup makes Sasuke miss Team Red sharply. They would have tried to change the plan from waiting for him to memorize volumes in favor of destruction of the compound by fire, water, or meteor strike to conceal the theft of the books for later leisure reading, but he wouldn’t have to listen to whining about the rain or being left behind. Maru is excited to pour over the Genjutsu map and help plan until Sasuke forbids him from coming along, then he pouts with his whole body. It reminds Sasuke of Komachi’s silent hangover rages, and he reconsiders the unnatural disaster angle. It might encourage the Senju to rebuild further away if Team Red’s version of calamity visited their compound, but he suspects that the healing library would be a higher priority for a clan that doesn’t habitually memorize everything important, making his theft pretty obvious. He settles for a slower, quieter series of raids.

Maru relents when Sasuke reveals his intent to teach him how to disappear if he keeps up his stealth training. The kid will stay with Momo, ready to act as anchor in case they need to reverse summon out of a tight spot. Sasuke would rather not use that route, he’s _happy_ with his Hawk summons in the future, but emergencies happen when you don’t plan for them.

So Sasuke traverses the forest with a quartet of cats under his coat, in pure defiance of physics and good sense. Hime refuses to be left behind, Denka, Hina, and Kukie-oba are ready to keep watch and warn him of anyone approaching while he researches organ damage and how to deal with broken and blocked intestines.

Infiltrating the Senju healing hall library during the quiet hours after post-dinner checks and the first midnight rounds is nerve wracking. Ouka-san, the woman he’d fled from the first time, is their head medic and every bit as scary as a sister of the clan head should be even before taking into consideration their Uzumaki mother. That the first two Hokage have an Uzumaki grandma and dozens of Uzumaki cousins just fits, and makes the lack of information on Uzushio in their Academy education seem less an oversight from time constraints than some sort of Senju propaganda.

He puts a pin in that thought for later, refocusing on sneaking into the empty medical library. Hime licks at the place where his curse mark used to be and directs the subtle investment of starry chakra to his eyes to activate a version of the cats’ low light vision. The gray light of twilight shifts into something even stranger, the shadows taking on more depth and shades of gray, their contents no longer obscured but limned in soft colors.

Weird, but useful.

_That describes most of your life, doesn’t it?_ The taunting inner voice is probably Sai, but it could be a lot of Leaf Ninja. 

Sasuke ignores the self-mocking part of his brain as he scans the shelf labels, trying to determine what system the Senju used to organize their scroll and book collection. The small paper labels seem to be names. He keeps looking, in case the first pair of shelves are set aside for ongoing research projects, but the entire place is divided by Author. 

_By Author? How does anyone find_ _**anything** __?_

Sasuke thinks his hypothetical division by research project would be easier to search, unless the Senju medics are a lot more specialized than he expects them to be. There isn’t a clearly labeled index, either. He asks Hime to sniff around for the most frequently accessed books while he looks over a booklet that was left out on a table. It’s a summary of experiments to combat common infections, and potentially useful so he flips through it before setting it back to the page it was left open to.

Hime shows him the most popular books, but there’s no index among them- instead he identifies an anatomy reference, a pamphlet of exercises to improve chakra control, and a herbal remedy guide with so many corrections that it’s been rebound for easy expansion.

Sasuke scans over every page of the anatomy book with his Sharingan whirling, making sure to get every character and margin note.

Then he begins the inglorious task of mapping the library like an explorer dumped without reference points. The clouds have lightened enough as the sun sets for the stars to shine in through the window, and it’s not hard to gather their light close enough for his cat eyes to read by. Sasuke knows this job will take more than one visit, so he takes what he gets and hope that the Academy instilled standard report format didn’t spring from Tobirama’s brain without precedent.

Luck is not with him tonight.

Sasuke is forced to conclude that report writing rigor is an area where the Uchiha influenced Konoha and not the reverse, because the Uzumaki & Senju tracts he samples have a tendency to ramble, get sidetracked and follow tangents into whole other areas of study. He learns to look for summaries at the end, rather than at the beginning where they belong. The Konoha Police reports were never this messy, even when scrawled in personal notebooks rather than filled into actual forms.

One of the scrolls he selects at random is about treating collapsed lungs and references another healer’s technique for dealing with damaged intestines, and wonder of wonders the writer actually names the scroll describing that technique. He blesses Uzumaki Aikosa as he locates the named scroll and memorizes _something_ related to what he wanted to learn before Denka slips into the room and hisses that they need to go.

The retreat back to Uchiha territory is unimpeded aside from more feline complaints about the weather, but Sasuke takes it slow to give his temper time to cool. Seriously, who organizes a reference library by _author?_

Hime spots a cluster of mushrooms growing on an oak and meows. After confirming they are the good ones with a long sniff Sasuke grins- perhaps the night isn’t a total waste. If he creates a few shadow clones to help him harvest the bounty he can now smell all around in a reasonable amount of time, no one has to know but him and the cats. 

* * *

“What smells so good?” Izuna asks as he takes off his sandals, breathing in the rich smell saturating the air.

“Dinner,” Midori and Sasuke answer together, and yes, that’s his cryptic roommate flipping fish in a smaller pan while Midori checks one of the larger pots- there are three bubbling away around the fire, though two are set a bit to the side from the pair cooking.

Kita-chan sits with a cup of tea at a safe distance, bemused. She’s still wearing her new visiting kimono, purple with gold embroidery, that Otou-sama had given her last week in thanks for saving Izuna from his own stupidity in messing around in the purview of Sages. Long meetings with the Elders do usually lead to Midori-chan cooking, and for some reason Sasuke decided to stick his nose in. Not the weirdest thing he’s done, and yet -Izuna takes another sniff of the steam rising from the kitchen area- still delicious. His stomach rumbles despite the warning signs. He will have to be brave.

Madara and Otou-sama arrive while he’s taking off his armor and Izuna can _hear_ the skepticism in Otou-sama’s voice right through the shoji, though Midori’s response is bright with enthusiasm.

Dinner is simmered mushrooms, ginger, garlic, and bat nuts with a weird sauce, trout fried in a mix of spices Izuna has never encountered, rice, and pickles. It’s an _effort_ to keep fire chakra circulating to make absolutely sure everything is cooked properly before it hits his guts: he keeps getting distracted trying to tease out the different flavors as he chews.

He manages to pay attention when Kita asks the cooks about the other two pots- apparently they’re full of mushroom stems getting boiled into dashi.

“Wait, mushroom dashi? Does it taste this good?” Izuna’s a growing man; he’s going to take another portion of mushrooms if Madara and Otou-sama don’t want more. He’s also curious.

Sasuke blasts him with a smile so winning that Izuna is glad he’s on the far side of the circle of diners, “It’s a good flavor base, but by itself isn’t going to win hearts. Need noodles, miso, and narutomaki for that.”

Izuna snorts, it makes more sense in that light, “So you learned to cook to impress someone you like. I see!”

“Not like you’re thinking,” Sasuke says after a double blink, his smile fading into the blank look from his first week in the clan hall.

Kita pauses her own steady eating and says, “Izuna-kun, remember that Sasuke-san’s Treasures are not here.”

“Right,” Izuna nods and drops the topic, “So do you know how to make noodles?”

“No,” Sasuke denies it, “Seeing it done once is not the same as knowing.”

“Oh sure,” Izuna isn’t as big a fan of ramen or soba as some of his friends, but if he can convince his roommate to let them taste-test for him, well that could be a thing. And if he was going to be showing up at random, he could at least bring food with him.

* * *

Tsuyoshi doesn’t have much hope for Akari, but she wanted to say goodbye at home if at all possible, so he brought her bloodied and beaten body back in case she might wake up one last time. 

He hadn’t expected to be intercepted outside the gates by Sasuke, appearing in a chakra enhanced slide from somewhere inside the compound. His healer’s smock is freshly stained but his hands and arms are clean, fine nets of chakra flaring around his fingertips as he calls, “Medic!” 

Tsuyoshi stops and holds Akari still for triage.

Whatever the first technique tells him, Sasuke flashes through another set of hand seals and presses a hand onto her neck: Akari’s ragged, labored breaths quiet, like a sleeper eased out of a nightmare. 

Her chakra burns steady and low still, so Tsuyoshi doesn’t _panic_ though he does shoot Sasuke a speaking look.

“Skin breathing, so she doesn’t suffocate,” Sasuke explains, and wraps a layer of fiery chakra around them both like a thick blanket in the depths of winter, reinvigorating, “Warmth for shock. That should hold until we get her back to the Hall.” 

Tsuyoshi nods and they both start off at a quick jog, Sasuke clearing a path.

“Last one, Yori-senpai, another lung hit.” Sasuke doesn’t pause at the entrance of the healing hall and Tsuyoshi follows in his wake. 

“Can we do anything?” Yori asks when she and Oizuru come quick-stepping over, Oizuru with an arm around the younger healer’s shoulders to move with her despite his bad leg. 

“In theory,” Sasuke replies, “Sen, send a runner in case we’re too late.”

Tsuyoshi can see the other mats occupied by his squad: Kouki, down an arm but sleeping under the watchful gaze of his pregnant wife; Yuna’s body being wept over by her older sister; Sachiya’s family gathered too thick and tense to tell how he fairs. It was a bad day, a bad fight. The trading branch are not warriors, but the Senju don’t care.

“Permission granted to go yang nightmare, Sasuke-bou,” Yori says as they take Akari to ease her down to the mat and Oizuru’s Sharingan spins to life. 

Green glowing yang energy flares to life on Sasuke’s palms and Tsuyoshi’s understanding of what’s going on flips again. He’s battled the Senju often enough to recognize healing jutsu when he sees it.

He’s led to another mat and checked over as someone slides fusuma around Akari and the healers for privacy. He doesn’t recall what answers he gives, just sits and waits under his half of the fiery chakra blanket while Akari’s younger siblings gather around him, too cautious to interrupt the healers while they work but too afraid to miss a chance to say goodbye. 

Eventually Akari coughs and coughs. Her siblings all go quiet.

Akari draws in a clear breath and says loud enough to be heard through the privacy screens, “Izuna?”

“I’m afraid not,” Sasuke’s voice is tight, “Please let go.”

Yori cackles. Tsuyoshi can’t stand it, he draws the Fusuma aside, the children around him in an anxious cluster. Akari is on her side, propped up on one elbow and the other hand holding Sasuke’s face. 

“Izuna, one day your pretty face isn’t going to be enough to save you,” Akari presses on, voice clear despite the haze still in her eyes. She does let go when Yori rolls her onto her back, “And when that day comes you’re going to have to stop flirting from bed to bed and grow a personality.”

Sasuke buries his face against Oizuru’s shaking shoulder, his own hands too much of a mess to hide behind. “I’m going to start wearing a mask. Go full scarecrow-sensei.”

Akari’s smallest sister can’t contain herself any longer and leaps forward with a cry of “Kari-neeeeee!”

Yori plucks the toddler out of the air and starts explaining that Akari is still squishy and they need to be gentle, like with baby quail. The children all giggle, crowding around. One asks where Izuna-sama is, and Sasuke excuses himself to wash up while Yori explains the resemblance. 

Tsuyoshi smiles reassurance at Akari, then follows his nephew over to the healers’ wash station. 

“I’m sorry,” Sasuke says as he drops his dirty smock into a bin full of similar laundry and starts washing his hands and arms.

Tsuyoshi stares, “Why?” 

“We couldn’t save Yuna-san, and I don’t think Sachiya-san is going to last the night even though we patched him up enough to talk,” he keeps the words soft not to carry to Sachiya’s family.

That’s so backward Tsuyoshi doesn’t know where to start. That _anyone_ lived from their desperate attempt to save the group of terrified trading branch from the Senju ambush is a miracle. Hashirama is the stuff of nightmares; add his cousin Touka to the mix and not only could you not trust the ground or flora, but the sky, distance, and sound all became suspect as well. Sharingan could break the illusions, but against Hashirama a moment of distraction could mean a slow death. Holding out until Madara and his elite squad came crashing through the trees to force the Senju back and not losing his whole squad in the process was victory.

Tsuyoshi doesn’t bother to explain all of that right now, he pulls his nephew into a hug as soon as he reaches for a towel. There’s a moment of hesitation before Sasuke returns the embrace, but warm hands press against the back of his armor and hold tight. 

“You saved Akari,” tears well and fall; he grieves for his fallen but relief that _any_ of them lived is stronger. “She would have died. She lived. Kouki lived. That’s victory against Hashirama. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Sasuke’s shoulder slump and he makes a sound that might be assent. Tsuyoshi holds on. Sasuke squeezes back, “Okay.”

“Yori-nee says you healed Neesan,” Kenashi interrupts a minute later, and Sasuke lifts his head to look at the fourteen year old with a curious tilt to his chin. Akari’s brother looks half ready to burst with stress and relief, but seems to have run out of words. Sasuke lets go of Tsuyoshi’s back with one hand and holds out his arm, his expression gone soft with empathy for the younger boy. Kenashi accepts the invitation and hugs them both with fierce whispers of gratitude. 

It’s been a bad day, but it could have been worse. Tsuyoshi will hold onto that and the clan mates left to him, as he has learned to do.

* * *

Sasuke could have reverse summoned blind and hoped to land with his hawks, but a conversation with Sannosawa’s class about security seals based on invitations gave him a better idea. If he can’t make a proper contract without talking to them, he can at least be polite and give himself an anchor to return by if they don’t want him. 

When he appears in the land of the summons he falls several feet and has to catch himself on a branch before he lands on his head. Gravity can be weird in the _real_ land of birds, but it’s also malleable to the will. He shifts his orientation and looks up at the sun. It’s ruddy orange and hazier than he recalls the last time he was here, but still hanging over the same trio of spire mountains like someone had pulled it down for closer examination and then forgot to put it back. It gives him a reference point to go looking for Vinata’s palace, so he can present himself formally.

Sannati finds him first, which is far from surprising, given how good she is at chakra sensing. “Sasuke-taicho? Is that you?”

He can hardly deny it, but he waits until she’s closer to reply, since his puny human lungs can’t screech in the required octaves to cover that distance, “Yeah, it’s me Sannati-kun. How’ve you been?”

“I am well! I am glad to see that it is you! Your chakra is much altered since we last met. This does explain why we haven’t heard from you in some days.” 

“Days?”

“Time is fluid between our realm and yours. The queen or Jatayu would know more precisely,” the lovely striped hawk back-wings closer, assessing him with her soft sable eyes the size of his hands. “Would you like a lift?”

Sasuke measures the distance left to cover (long), the potential for death (as high as the cliffs involved even if he can manage to claim control of the local gravity), and the size of the favor Sannati is likely to demand for it (in the bag, literally). “I have crayfish?” he offers. 

“Oh! My favorite! You remembered!" she nearly knocks him out of the tree with enthusiastic flapping and swoops before recovering her decorum. “I will be delighted to have it once I deliver you to the queen! But I will enjoy it more in a smaller form, so it can wait,” She lands on branch next to him and clacks her beak in excitement, “Come, come, your hopping is prodigious but so human, Taicho.”

“As you wish,” Sasuke climbs on and grips in the right place with hands and chakra to not interfere with her movement as Sannati falls away from the top of the tree and then snaps her wings out to catch the warm updraft flowing off the sands far below. There’s nothing like flying in any world. It’s freedom and power and trust rolled together and topped with sprinkles of adrenaline that he’ll never tire of. 

Sannati understands his mood instinctively, because she avoids the direct route to Vinata’s domain, instead looping around to catch the more spectacular views afforded by the surreal stacked landscape. A sparkling river flowing in defiance of sense up mountains to cascade down tiers of giant mushrooms, a forest of cacti and petrified trees sprouting from tri-colored sands, a spire mountain broken in the middle whose upper half hangs in the air, webbed to it’s lower half by dangling vines and roots that could no more support it’s weight than a child could support a giant. The further he looks the more he’ll see, every trick of the eye and forced perspective that generations of hawks have seen and investigated recreated as it might have been, if physics weren’t relevant. 

There’s no breath for worry and pain under such views; he feels the same awe as when he first was brought here by Garuda, after that disaster of an Anbu mission in Rain.

There’s balance, to come here again for guidance on how to deal with so much death.

Vinata isn’t home when they arrive, but the palace aide who comes out to greet them assures Sasuke that the queen isn’t far and will be happy to come right away. Perhaps it’s Yori’s lecture making him pay more attention, but he actually notices the specific words the songbird functionary uses aren’t just generically respectful ‘Summoner’ like Shikako’s summons use or the Toad’s casual use of first names, but appropriate for an informal _royal_ visitor. Maybe there is something to this _dōjō kuge_ business?

Sannati shrinks to shoulder size and alights on his foot like it belongs to her. Sasuke takes the hint, taking a seat with crossed legs before he digs into his bag and pulls out one of the crayfish he and Maru caught at the river that morning. He breaks it into pieces for Sannati to crunch into and listens to the most pressing gossip of the extended family of hawks that make of the majority of his summons. 

Jicho and Karura are nesting and insufferable about it. Soukka is working on a new landscape- this one involves rooting a building into a cliff-face upside down but it keeps falling into the crystal quarry and smashing. 

“Remember that guy we ran into once, the blonde with the bombs? He’d consider that a kind of art, the smashing,” Sasuke muses.

“That guy,” Sannati mutters, “We’ll get him next time.”

Sasuke raises an eyebrow, “You’re still mad about him getting away?”

That sets her off, and the rant draws in of several of the younger set who lurk around the center of Vinata’s domain. The hawks’ roast of Deidara’s explosive clay birds - _childishly simplistic_ was as kind as it gets- and tactics keeps Sasuke entertained until Vinata arrives.

Vinata arrives from the sky as they did, a shadow against the sun and then a brilliantly patterned giant descending onto the landing platform with them. “Sasukeitou! It is good to see you again, it has been some weeks since we heard from you and my children worried you were lost,” Her greeting is as warm as Sasuke could hope for, and his carefully worded not-quite-contract of guest manners seems the act of a paranoiac warding against the moon falling into the mill pond. 

He rises to greet her, sending Sannati to join her cousins in the circle of onlookers. “I did get a bit lost, but I’m not dead yet, Vinata-heika,” Sasuke makes the formal obeisance he was taught on his second trip, one knee forward and bent, the other back, arms spread out and then down to meet in front of his face. 

“Feeling formal today, I see. What do you need that you feel you need such measures when it is just us and not a formal court, my dear?” Vinata eyes him for injuries, nudging him with one wing to test his balance. Sasuke bends his knees and doesn’t dare stagger, because there is no mother henning like the mother henning of a Queen of the land of birds.

“Because I _am_ lost in time and space,” he explains, “and the connection I have with you is bound to my home and the contract there. I’m hoping to make another contract so that I could benefit from your guidance and company until I can make a way home. I’ve missed you all. And I need your help.” 

“Flattery, but a sincere request for all that. Come here,” Vinata nods her head and he doesn’t flinch at the giant beak passing a few inches from his face. If he didn’t trust them, he wouldn’t be here. He takes the last step into her reach. 

This time there’s no blood, just the press and merge of chakra to chakra as their foreheads touch and the bond returns to it’s prior strength, but with something new thanks to the Stars. 

“I’m glad you’ve freed yourself of the snake’s taint, Sasukeitou,” Vinata’s voice has a note he’s never heard from her -acquisitiveness?- “but you must tell us what has happened to you, Star Ridden.”

Troubling new title, that one, but Naruto and Shikako have both managed to survive contact with extraordinary entities: he has decent odds, _surely?_

“Well, it started with a report of a village in Water dropping off the communication circuits, so a team was sent to investigate,” He begins the tale of bad luck and escalating complications that brought him to this point. 

He’s not sure if laying it out makes it worse or better. Can he count the trade caravan on his list of those saved from the Senju, even though he used no healing to accomplish it? How do you calculate quality of life in the mix, and does prolonging suffering subtract even if they learn something and it was agreed to beforehand? He can name the dead and it’s not a long list by the standards of a war, but running the numbers based on the last six weeks makes Sasuke want to scream, because no one acts as if this is unusual. It’s a tide of blood he can’t hope to push back, not if he had his own Bijuu to help _and_ Kako’s level of chakra control . 

It hurts, and he’s lost.

No.

It’s hurts, but he’s safe among friends.

Folded under Vinata’s wings, her beak smoothing his hair into a more pleasing silhouette as he shakes. There’s no facade to maintain anymore, “I don’t know what to do. I’m not a healer. I’m just a saboteur who watched someone else get lessons enough to steal some knowledge but it’s not enough. So many of them are dying and I can’t, I can’t-” _Why does it hurt so much? He barely knows them._

“You cannot save everyone. You know this,” Vinata murmurs, “Death always takes it’s tithe.”

“I know,” he breathes through the pain of that truth, and turns his face into the softness of her under-down, “But I can’t protect them either, can’t put an end to the threat. No, I _could_ physically do it, but I won’t. I could kill or hurt them bad enough to keep the Senju from hurting anyone ever again-” and here’s the sticking point, the horror that lurks like the red moon hiding behind a mountain, that he will never unleash, “But I won’t. I refuse. I will not do what he did. I will not slaughter families and children for some dream of safety that doesn’t exist. I’d mutiny first.”

Vinata keeps preening his hair, slow and steady, “This is one of your pillars, a strong beam to support your heart. Do not lose it. Many ninja harden themselves too far, and topple to the first strong wind to come along. You get upset with yourself for being too soft, but a supple heart can endure where others will only shatter.”

“I don’t feel supple or soft, I feel like I’m condemning people to die because I refuse to fight for them,” his voice sounds hollow even to his own ears, all the sobs waiting to rip free held back only by keeping ahead of it, letting the words spill out without filter, “But I can’t end the feud with a sword, and we can’t heal them faster than they get cut down, and everyone is in so much pain. I thought I could help but I’m not good enough. I’m always too late, thinking too slow.”

“Do you blame the other healers for not learning fast enough? Or the other warriors for not using techniques never intended for life-saving to keep their fellows intact?”

“No!” the very suggestion is outrageous and Sasuke can feel himself bristle, “They’re doing so much with so little! They assume that they’re going to lose but they still fight for every life they can, with herbs and sutures and bandages they have to weave and stitch themselves. It’s pure stubborn courage and no one could say they aren’t doing everything they can.” It’s not the Uchiha healer’s fault they don’t have a whole training hospital and Nara clan to keep them stocked with four shifts of healers and alternate medicines in case of allergies and a supply train of cloth from outside for bandages and sheets and… all the other things that let Konoha do miracles like it’s nothing. “They’re just fighting higher than their rank.” 

“Then why do you expect more from yourself, when you don’t see yourself as a healer?” 

He doesn’t have any answer for that because he doesn’t know why he expects to save anyone. But once he managed to pull one soul back, the next failure hit him like one of Chouji’s Full-Body slams, even though he didn’t know them and Yumiori said there was less than a ghost of a chance they’d make it when they were brought in. Well, there is the usual: do the impossible once and it’s a fluke, do it over and over and it’s not just the people writing Bingo books that raise the bar. “I got lucky, and then I got arrogant.”

“A common pitfall of the young,” Vinata rests her head on his for a moment, thinking; he can hear the wood of the landing platform suffering under her talons. “But you _know_ your luck doesn’t last.” It's as good as a smack to the head.

“No, not in a good way.”

“Do you _want_ to be a healer?”

Sasuke never considered stopping, for all that he's pulled in ten directions at once some days and others feel like he’s weaving a bridge across a pit of doom from stubbornness and borrowed dreams. “Ah...”

“Let me ask it another way. Why did you decide to teach the healers, rather than the children or scouts or warriors? Your skills in those areas are more advanced than what you’ve learned from watching Tsunade teach and your teammate apply patches.” 

“And talking shop,” Sasuke adds, though he’s really not thinking about the conversation with an ageless Suna medic who’d known the Uchiha in the second war that netted him the Pain Interrogation at the moment. The impulse to help after the tiger mauling was one thing, committing most of his energies to Healing week after week was entirely different. “I wanted to make a fair trade for the sealing knowledge I need to get home. I thought it would be more useful, once I realized they didn’t have any chakra healing at all. Not that I gave anyone a list of my salable skills and asked them to choose, it just seemed like Healing is something that everyone in the clan would benefit from eventually.”

“You are thinking like a healer and a leader,” the queen of the hawks speaks with the rolling cadence of pronouncing sentence, “and I believe that you have the capacity to heal many if you choose that path.”

“I think that recent results have shown that I am likely to fail as often as I succeed,” he hears the bitterness like the salt of other’s tears on his face.

“Many hunts fail, even for master hunters,” the scrape of claws on wood -and not destroying another arm guard- sharp as the rebuke, “Do not fling yourself at the ground because you fail.”

Sasuke can only nod, because he does feel like he’s been falling, only to be snatched out of the air at the last moment.

“If you keep your heart open you may heal more than only bodies. But you _must_ be patient. With yourself, with your fellows, with the changes you wish to see. You must rest and care for yourself as well,” Vinata pauses until he nods again, “Or, if your intent is still only to trade knowledge of healing for knowledge of sealing, then you need to harden your heart against their pain or you will not be able to see your way out when the time comes.” 

Sasuke shakes his head, “I wouldn’t be here asking for help if I wasn’t already to attached to be objective or mercenary. If I was willing to do my own camp chores I could pack myself off to some isolated cave and throw myself at the sealing problem until it cracks. I have the basic knowledge of how to make, modify, and test seals in this system. But I don’t understand space and time well enough to power through it like Kako did. I’d hate myself for leaving when I could be helping and saving _some_ people and working on the seal in my free time.”

Garuda chuckles from his perch a few yards away, “Then I guess you have no choice but to commit to the dive, eh, Sasuke-dono? And maybe you can shut the Toads up by bringing about world peace while you’re at it.”

“I am one person.” He turns in Vinata’s embrace and holds up a single finger, swiping it through the air, “I doubt I could heal just this feud given how my clan _feels_ too much to let it go, even when they’re clever enough to know that killing won’t bring anyone back.” Sasuke gestures wide with the same hand, as if to encompass all the landscapes around them. In the distance, wood crashes onto stone and shatters into fragments. Another failed attempt at upside-down house, another win for art with a bang. “Where would I find the time to do anything about all the other conflicts that keep everyone on a slow boil until the villages form and we start tap-dancing on the landslides that are the big wars? Fuck my life Garuda, I want to end the fighting, but I’m a shinobi, what do I know about making peace that can last?”

“Isn’t it lucky that you prefer to work in a group, Sasukeitou?” Vinata reminds him, “Perhaps you can ask someone who is not a shinobi. You don’t have to succeed, but you must try or you aren’t really being the best version of yourself, are you?

Sasuke bows his head, “No. I’d be letting down the Lucky Sevens brand if I didn’t try to help make peace. This is the Iconic multi-generational feud; make this alliance and everyone else decides they need one too.”

Garuda cocks his head, “But are you sure that is the wisest course, throwing pebbles at the landslides of history?”

“No, but maybe if we build a better peace then everyone else will have to as well. Someone told me once that I can’t control the wind, I can only ride it.” It was petty of Garuda to point out that wind manipulation was the weakest of his chakra releases, but it was true in both a literal and metaphorical sense.

The prince nods in agreement, satisfied for now.

Jatayu, Vinata’s grandson and what passed for the clan’s scholar, emerges from the palace carrying the Hawks’ copy of the Summoning contract and announces himself with a particular cadence of talon taps. Sasuke has never summoned him, but Jatayu famously replaced his missing wing with an arm from a centipede Suna Puppet and wields the odd limb with startling dexterity- including sending it flying free of his body at need, as it’s articulated by what Sasuke now realizes is _Uchiha_ wire, and not attached by anything but chakra and habit.

Sasuke wipes away the tear tracks and settles his breathing, despite Vinata’s renewal of the chakra bond, there may be some more formalities needed to allow him to summon into a new dimension. 

He’s right and wrong- the formalities could be as simple as re-affirming his old contract, but queen and her son and their scribe settle down into formal negotiating positions around a fresh scroll rather than unroll the old one. 

The old contract asked for his chakra to help maintain their lands in exchange for their help, and any new contract would as well, “But the chakra you can call is different than it was when we met, and for greater access we could offer greater aid,” Vinata explains, “Also, we’d like you to find another summoner to carry on the contract in this world before you go. Or several, in different clans. The Osprey clan has also expressed an interest in finding summoners again last time I spoke to their queen, it has been a few centuries for them.”

Sasuke takes a moment to process, and decides to address the less confusing issue first, “I can understand wanting more copies of the contract and more summoners so your scroll doesn’t end up on a shelf for decades, but other clans might be a hard sell even if they’re allies. I know that Summons don’t care about our wars, but humans very much do.”

Jatayu waves his puppet wing-hand in a dismissive gesture that is not at all birdlike and a little creepy, “Oh, there are lots of hawk clans so there shouldn’t be a conflict of availability. And you can help us pick out a suitable Uzumaki as summoner for the Osprey clan, they’re very excited at the prospect of helping seal masters again.”

Sasuke has a moment of horror picturing giant fishing eagles delivering ballistic Seals- carp streamers that explode on impact, origami crab constructs, sea shells that contain more than the roar of the sea- the possibilities are endless. “Uzumaki. They’re Senju allies. Very scary, possibly more so than the actual Senju?”

Garuda has the audacity to laugh, “Yes, but common interests will help you make peace.”

_What the hell is my life?_ “Sure, the worst that can happen is that I die smeared across the landscape by an Uzumaki rather than a Senju. Naruto would approve; please deliver my remains and a note saying ‘I told you so’ in the event of my grisly demise by redhead.”

“Would you like that to be part of the terms?” Jatayu asks in all seriousness.

“Yes, so they don’t have to wonder. I’ll write some letters for you to keep.” The practice is morbid to civilians and common to ninja;he’s done it before, when he joined Anbu and updated every year or so. The idea of abandoning his team with just letters always sits wrong with him, but Death takes it’s cut where and when it chooses.

"It will take some time to contact other clans to see who is interested in establishing new contracts, but let us say no more than five, including the ospreys?” Garuda suggests. 

"Five? I’m not sure if I’ll have time to make contact with that many other clans.”

“Bah, you’ve accomplished much in the month or two you’ve been there, by your own account.”

"A month… or two?” Sasuke stares at all of them, then around at the circle of spectating birds, but none show the least disagreement. “Why do you think it’s been that long?” he asks, carefully neutral.

“You haven’t aged, but you have control over your altered chakra,” Garuda explains, “You should be shooting up or filling out visibly month to month, but you’re just as you were when you summoned me to scout that village with the dormant volcano, which can’t have been long before the mission that went wrong for you.”

That village had been a week before they returned to Kiri, ten days before Haku asked if he’d come along for the investigation mission, a day shy of two weeks before he was flung into the past... and rapidly approaching half a year ago by the count of days from his own perspective. Sasuke stares down at his hands, then pushes back his coat sleeves to examine his forearms critically. They’re still showing signs of the last burst of growth that left him lanky and drawn out in a weird parody of Kakashi-sensei’s old proportions, but he expected the muscle to fill back in with time and steady eating. It hasn’t. 

"Sannati-kun, can I borrow your eyes for a moment? There aren’t many mirrors where I’m living right now.” He’s proud of the lack of stammer in his voice. Sannati’s chakra reaches for his own and he meets her gaze, swapping perceptions. 

It’s always strange to look at himself through hawk eyes -they see colors humans don’t and with clarity even the Sharingan is hard pressed to match- but he’s done it enough to need only a blink to adjust. _Oh hell. Garuda is right._

Sasuke looks more Uchiha than he ever has in his layers of indigo, but as he unbuttons his coat to reveal more of his own shape, he sees still bony shoulders, stretched limbs and torso, and the slight hollowness of his face and neck. The same face from the mirror as Utakata chided him as ‘too serious for such a young man’ in the last inn before they’d arrived back in Kiri. It felt like a lifetime ago, not mere months.

Sasuke releases his meld with Sannati to return to his own senses and does some calculating, “I don’t understand why the days aren’t showing, but it’s been 23 weeks since I was dropped into the past.”

"That’s fascinating,” Jatayu breaks the silence that follows that statement, “I wonder if it has anything to do with your god chakra?”

“My- You mean what the Stars left behind."

"Don’t fuss, it’s a common thing for Uchiha to reach for Gods and channel some of their power,” the scholar spins his puppet limb absently again, “though I’ve never seen it in bones as well; it’s usually just the eyes.”

"Just the eyes,” Sasuke echoes, and sits with a thump. This is going to be a long talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is mostly done, but I'll be working on a different project during November. I hope to get it finished before then and post sometime next month. Cheers!
> 
> I picked the major hawk names from Hindu mythology to match Garuda from canon. Some tidbits,  
> Sannati is one of the Krittika / Kṛttikā- Astrological Cutter Goddesses  
> Vinata is the mother of birds, sister and rival to the mother of nagas/serpents  
> Jatayu, son of Aruna, lost a wing while trying to rescue Sita from Ravana
> 
> About Honorifics:  
> -Taicho: captain. Sannati uses this half seriously, half as a tease for his Anbu mask.  
> -Sasukeitou – Sasuke’s name + Keitou, which is Celosia or Cockscombs flowers, from kḗleos, Ancient Greek for “burning.” Yes, we have an affectionate pun honorific this time. Vinata coined this for Sasuke.  
> -Heika: majesty, ruler. For the queen, Sasuke uses this to address Vinata formally, though he uses -Sama and -oba in other situations.  
> -dono: someone of similar high rank, “milord” when not using more formal titles. Garuda uses this, non-ruling prince to non-ruling prince…
> 
> 23 weeks is about 5 months and a week.


	11. Interwoven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neglect it and the social fabric will fray; maintenance and care are required.  
> Sasuke faces the consequences of his inattention and tries to do better.

Sasuke returns to the human-dominated world in the engawa near the toilet, which is _not_ where he’d hidden the anchoring document he’d written out before reverse summoning himself to the Hawks’ domain. He’d been successful in reestablishing his contract with them, and in negotiating favorable terms for the additional side-jobs they’d requested, so he was fairly pleased with the results until he didn’t land back on the roof.

Kita’s expression is complicated as she looks down at him, but more open than any he’s seen from her before. “You can’t just disappear and risk yourself without telling anyone, Sasuke-san!” she hisses at him, “I’m still responsible for you.”

He knows that. It fits with what he’s been learning from Moreya for the past several weeks, but the fear and intensity in her voice implies something a lot more immediate and dangerous than which half of the Homeguard-Outguard split he falls under. He probably doesn’t look very bright as he blinks at her, then realizes that Tajima must have come home early; his chakra burns steady in the receiving room.  _Shit._

“Kita-sa-”

The seal she hits him with is just an illusion, but the cleaning bucket is real enough, “You’ve been ill all afternoon, clean up after yourself.”

Sasuke takes the bucket of rags and soap without a word of protest. 

The toilet is typical levels of disgusting and scrubbing it out with only soap and ammonia is something best not kept in the front of the mind, so when the memory of another conversation floats up Sasuke focuses on that. His brain insists he review the conversation  _after_ the first Tea Ceremony with prickly Kita and Tajima watching like a Sharingan-eyed volcano of doom. He’d been too mired in the stars’ confinement panic to pay attention the first time, but he can at least remember it. 

Kita had told him, ‘The _unknown is always a greater threat than the known, Sasuke-san,'_ but he didn’t process it. Izuna had echoed the sentiment later, ‘ _he’ll keep pushing until he’s got enough information. As Outguard Head, that’s his responsibility.’_

Winning the court battle to make Tajima stop belittling doesn’t mean the man would stop watching.

And Sasuke had disappeared to another realm of existence without setting up an alibi. Leaving Kita holding the bag of potentially explosive Tajima. 

_I am the asshole. The very pig’s ear._

Worse, he’s got a sneaking suspicion he’s been an unforgivable ass to the clan’s real Seal Master, given the ease with which Kita placed a fairly complex tag on his shirt with just a touch. 

The long suffering voice of Ocelot-taicho asks  _what he expected to happen?_

Not to be caught so soon, but to be noticed eventually, though he hadn’t actually thought about it.  _Tunnel vision again._

Kita had not come out and told him what he needed to do, to wait Tajima out. She’d only said  _‘Tajima is very busy.’_ and then  _demonstrated_ by waiting until the terror of a man was distracted by his other duties to try answering his questions. 

But he can’t rely on Tajima to stay distracted.

_No, that’s not the point. The point is that Kita showed me. She was trying to tell me other things but I wasn’t listening._ He scolds himself. 

He’s Kita’s responsibility to look after. But Tajima is still his Lineage head. So she’s responsible for his whereabouts if Tajima asks. And Kita didn’t answer his questions while Tajima was watching but she was willing to do so once he was gone.  _Timing. Patience._

_Oh, so you were given the parameters, you just didn’t pay attention to them?_ He can picture Ocelot’s disdainful mask tilt. 

Kita was willing to help him parry and dodge Tajima, if he’d been less of a fool in how he puts himself in the man’s sights. 

Emphasis on  _Was_ . He might have fucked that up for good. 

Sasuke attacks the next stain with a gout of rage he hasn’t felt surface since Tajima insulted his parents in front of two thirds of the Outguard.  _Fuck Itachi. Fuck that smiling murder weasel and his lies to the darkest pit in Yomi. May his bones rot in a swamp and crows peck out his eyes! May the gods themselves spit on his ashes as the world burns. I wish… I wish I had never loved him. It wouldn’t hurt so bad to see his smile in Kita’s face if he’d only ever been cold._

He wants to scream, but there’s no point. There’s no explanation for it he can give.

It’s so perfectly Itachi, to be able to ruin things decades before he’s born just by having a face double. Izuna would laugh at the irony.

‘ _You should tell her.’_ Ocelot-taicho’s voice says reasonably, and Sasuke feels his shoulders straighten at the gentle rebuke there. It’s not Kita’s problem, it’s all in _his_ head. And there’s no polite way to tell someone that their face gives you nightmares by association.

‘ _You’re making it her problem.’_ Ocelot points out with the same cool dissection of a situation into components she’d taught him for planning Anbu missions. ‘ _And you’re falling into the trap of polite pretense._ Recognize _that it is a trap and practice directness, as she tried to do with you after that disaster of a tea ceremony.’_

Maybe he can combine it with the apology that he owes her. Kita-san has been so kind and he doesn’t want to be afraid of her for nothing she did. He’d rather learn if she’s the Kako kind of scary. The fun kind.

He keeps scrubbing with less rage,  sternly reminding himself  that if Shikako didn’t have the chemical know-how to use earth jutsu to make cleaning chemicals, he would only poison himself and everyone for fifty meters. Not that there are very many people in that radius, the break in the rain has a great many people out in the fields or visiting friends.

Kita’s left the clan hall already, heading toward her parents’ place. Tajima is still in the receiving room with his paperwork, but otherwise the building is empty. It’s actually the perfect moment for a mutual assassination attempt if Tajima  _was_ feeling suspicious, but Sasuke’s not keen to start the political landslide that would follow. Tajima is a kin-killing bastard of a man, but even his worst detractors don’t think Madara’s quite ready to step up as Outguard Head yet. And Someone would have to fight Butsuma. Sasuke doesn’t want to have to do a mid battle murder of the Senju clan head just to achieve parity and get back to healing, it would make a mess of his tentative peace plans. 

So he’s stuck here alone, scrubbing a bathroom while lamenting that he can’t commit a simple double homicide of dictatorial asshole clan leaders and must instead use his inadequate social skills to attack a problem. Sasuke ignores the many mental voices pointing out that he’s never been the member of his team with a large and indiscriminate kill count; the point is scrubbing and enforced socializing are both an apt punishment for forgetting about Tajima, who is a physical and social threat to Homeguard Uchiha like him and Kita. He stopped worrying about maintaining his cover when the external threat loomed and the internal one went quiet, but the Senju are far less able to catch him off guard and kill him. Ouka-sama very much excepted. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

It’s Kako’s voice in a rare scathing mood that haunts him as he tosses a fresh bucket of water onto the floor and picks up the brush again. He’d asked for her help with a delicate in-village mission assigned to him by Tsunade, and Shikako had torn into him for his lack of precautions in trusting mere enhanced Anbu secrecy seals when he brought it up,  _“You think you’re smart enough to dig into the dark side of Konoha just because Tsunade asked you too? Don’t be Stupid! It ate your clan, your genius brother, and your Anbu cousin, and didn’t blink. You’ll wish you only died, Sasuke!”_

She’d tried to make him promise to turn down the mission, and when he’d refused they’d had their first real screaming fight in years, all contained so well by those supposedly shoddy privacy seals that when Tenzou showed up for dinner and interrupted them, he was completely unsettled by their stiffness and red faces. 

Shikako fled to Naruto’s for dinner and Sasuke had to explain to poor Tenzou that they were fighting, not anything more intimate. He and Kako weren’t like that, and he doubted Kako would ever be like that with anyone. 

They hadn’t really reconciled that fight before he’d been requested by the Mizukage. It was an unexpected honor to be given the mission to locate Utakata and Saiken before Akatsuki. The subsequent stint as an ambassador of sorts in Kiri broadened his perspective of normalcy and smashed what remained of the rigid life trajectory of his childhood, so he has a hard time regretting that experience despite it’s dubious origins. 

On more paranoid nights he wondered if his removal from Konoha for months was a more extreme version of the great Tsukuyomi Replacement debacle. Sending him to look for a Jinchuriki who’d made his poor opinion of villages clear, so soon after the messy death of Sasori of the Red Sand put the whole alliance squad on Akatsuki’s to-murder list, as a way to keep him “safe” from  _sketchy elders playing politics…._ it’s mad on the face of it, but Kako never looked inside the box for solutions. She might have considered it good enough to send him away from the known danger.

Sasuke heart hurts to question his best friend’s trust on that level, but if Shikako doesn’t want to explain herself she just won’t: she’ll do something drastic and damn the consequences. Some secrets she holds more dear even than the team, which stings every time he runs afoul of one.   
  
He can’t fix what’s broken between himself and Kako from here. 

He can fix the floor. He can replace the cracked and chipped bath house tiles that he discovered while staring at them so closely. The awkward placement of that soap basket is now explained. A trip to the potters and an hour with a grout trowel would set it right, so he makes plans.

He could also use this unexpected trip to the past to actively improve at interpersonal politics, rather than wallowing in his own misfortune and hyper-focusing on things he knows how to do.  Human lessons are not just for Sai. 

His problems with Kita and Tajima are intertwined, so if he wants to fix his mess with Kita, it may be easier to start from the other end. Like Izuna said,  _Act more like a clansman, less like a youkai._ He’s sure the world will provide him opportunities if he keeps his eyes open.

* * *

The next week reminds him that despite Tajima’s position as local tyrant, it’s Kita who rules the emotional ebb and flow of the clan hall. She does not speak to him or acknowledge him except to make sure he gets some of the food, and most everyone else follows her lead. 

Madara demands to know what he did the next day, and Sasuke can only explain that he caused her to worry and have to cover for him in the smallest and most humble voice he has. His intention to apologize when Kita-san is ready to hear him probably saves him from more than just the unspoken threats in Madara’s stance and chakra. He’s left off with very firm instructions to Never Do It Again.

It’s almost the last conversation he has with any non-kittens inside the clan hall for six more days, because Tajima is content to smile over his tea at this rift and Izuna is not in the habit of speaking to him anyway. Sasuke makes a point to discuss daily itineraries with Benten and Midori where Kita can overhear and then does his best to stick to his. Life and a pair of stubborn siblings conspire to make his in-compound schedule complicated with surprise meetings that week, of course, but he tries. Sasuke knows it’s too little, too late. He abused the slack he was given and now it’s all been taken back. 

There’s a dozen small things that he’s on his own for that he hadn’t considered that Kita was taking care of, but the point it driven home now. Asking right is hard, but he simply does not have time to do everything for himself as he is used to. 

It’s amazing how a little thing like arranging for the laundry to be done becomes awkward when it’s removed, but he finds the time to do that himself. He asks Midori to set his futon out to air when she does the others in the afternoon on days when he can’t make it back to the clan hall and she agrees easily enough at first. Hime vibrates with glee at the chance to entertain Haruto while Sasuke finishes stitching a seal onto a bandage, and accepts the invitation to dinner for both of them, but a kitten managing his social calendar is strange even to the Uchiha.

* * *

When he makes the rounds to Akari’s place he expects the gaggle of children to stare a bit. Their big sister is healing well enough but internal wounds are tricky and lots of rest is still required. 

He doesn’t expect to be questioned in detail about what he’s doing by Kenashi. Nor to be followed to his next appointment. Jōnen eyes the older boy but doesn’t mind showing off his one-handed seals and new wind release trick. He’s growing more proficient with controlling the direction and strength of the stream of air, using it to blow the quails’ feed around the yard from the front porch.

Sasuke is resigned to be trailed back to the healing hall after that check in is over, and makes the mistake of asking what Kenashi wants.

The kid wants all his siblings to survive. If becoming a healer will give them a leg up, then he wants to do it, the sooner the better. 

That’s admirable, but there’s no one forcing all the Uchiha into the academy here and this worry seems to predate Akari’s injury. Sasuke makes an inquiring sound: the woes unfold like flicking a rolled bandage.

The entire family has larger chakra reserves, but no parents or other close adults to sponsor them into crafts where those reserves would be most useful. The Outguard will snatch them up like they snatched up Akari. None of the younger ones have anything like a craft. Kenashi only landed the position of apprentice sandal maker because their mother was friends with his master before she died.

Sasuke has sympathy for the problem, but spends the walking time between his next two stops explaining in as much detail as he can the unpleasantly grim and mucky aspects of healing. The smells, the sights, the stains, the fluids; the amount of cleaning required to keep everything sterile in the war against the gross that oozes and spews from patients like an ever surging tide. The death that stalks the hall despite their best efforts. 

Kenashi has younger siblings, he is not deterred by muck. The death is what he wants to stop, so that’s not putting him off either. 

So when they arrive at the Healing hall Sasuke makes a line for Yumiori, who has the authority to tell the kid yes or no and make it stick. He has enough on his plate, teaching and learning and trying to interact like a functional adult rather than a kitten without speech. 

Sasuke breathes a sigh of relief when Yumiori sends Kenashi off with a scold. As an apprentice Kenashi is already committed and would need to convince his master to release him. It’s unlikely to happen, given how seriously the Uchiha take such things. The teen apologizes and scurries off. Sasuke goes looking for Oizuru. He has some ideas about modifying Skin Breathing and wants a sanity check before he sinks a lot of time into the idea.

* * *

Tajima finds him at the river near the Outguard fields and watches him pound the linen clean with a calculating look. Sasuke waits to see if he’ll actually pose a question, but the man contents himself with staring. Full augmented sensing seems a right and reasonable response to this change in behavior, so when the Senju neighbors start moving in their direction he notices. 

To be fair, it’s mostly Hashirama’s tree avalanche that Sasuke can’t ignore, but when he turns to focus on the horizon he can also feel Tobirama’s cold water and fur alongside the dusty basalt pillars he’s come to associate with Butsuma, the current Senju Clan head and Tajima’s regular battlefield opponent. All three of the most dangerous Senju together, along with a dozen others he can pick out with a few more moments of focus. A raid in force or a joint squad training, and he doubts it’s for training on this side of their compound when there’s a whole uncontested forest further south and east of the Senju. 

Tajima’s eyebrow is raised when Sasuke returns his attention to the local menace, but he still doesn’t ask, making Sasuke volunteer the information. But this is something Madara already knows, and letting Tajima have this is a strategic concession that might reap more benefits than hindrances, “I believe the Senju are gathering for a raid, Tajima-sama.”

Tajima smiles like a particularly hungry shark, “So you  _can_ sense the Senju.”

“When they’re on the move,” Sasuke confirms, adding, “I’m still working on judging distances accurately in these woods, Tajima-sama,” with sincere frustration he doubts Tajima will accept. “It’s around three squads, including all three of their heavy hitters.”

“Heavy hitters?”

Sasuke scowls, reaching to wring out one of his work shirts and toss it in the basket, “Nothing I’ve heard inclines me to consider Senju Hashirama much of a leader, but he does hit very hard.”

It’s deeply strange for Tajima to bestow upon him a smirk of almost approval before he leaves, so Sasuke puts it out of his mind. He gathers his laundry up. It can dry in the Healer’s courtyard while they prep for wounded.

* * *

He returns to Akari’s place the next day, trying to put a brave face on after an excruciating conversation with Midori about how long it was going to take for him to reconcile with Kita, to an atmosphere of calm anticipation. 

Kenashi introduces his younger sister Satsuna, who is eleven, freshly convinced to be interested in learning about healing despite the muckiness and not encumbered by prior engagements. She bows too deeply and asks for his care.

Sasuke can feel the jaws of the trap closing. But traps are also opportunities. 

Formally Satsuna will have to be apprenticed to the Healing Hall as a whole, since he is not a Master. But no one is willing to call him an apprentice, either. His position in the healing hall is strange: he receives more lessons than he gives and nothing he says goes unchallenged, but he’s still held in some regard by even the senior healers. They will absolutely let Satsuna trail after him if she’s determined to, just as Maru visits him for cat bastard lessons without any interference from actual adults. 

“Let me talk to your sister for a moment,” he says, shooing all the younger siblings out and setting up a simple privacy jutsu so he can talk to Akari without resorting to a Sharingan conference. He’s gotten used to that shortcut of speech with Yori and Oizuru, but he’s not to the point of trying with anyone else. 

Akari winces as she levers herself up with the help of a pillow but her internal organs are solid enough to take it so he doesn’t insist on helping her. “It is their idea, so don’t blame me.”

“I’m sure it is, Akari-san,” Sasuke decides that this is a time for directness, rather than mincing politeness, “but it happens that Yori and I are recruiting people with larger chakra reserves, have work for them: we’re planning to build a unit of field healers. Satsuna-chan’s too young to be on it for a few years, but she may want to join in time and that won’t be as safe as working in the compound.” 

He pauses, unsure how much of his cash reserves he wants to commit to this effort and how much he wants to hold for other projects. 

Akari sighs, “If it’s about the apprentice fee, tell Yumiori-oba that I’ll have it as soon as I can get someone to take the things to a city big enough to sell them for what they’re worth. No one in the clan wants them.”

“I’m going to help cover the cost, for Satsuna-chan and any other orphans that want to join the healers or field healer unit.”

This is far from the first time he’s been stared at, but he’s not sure what about his statement did it this time. He decides to bull ahead, “It shouldn’t be very high; infusing thread takes practice but hemp isn’t expensive and paper for taking notes isn’t either. It’ll be a while before she’ll need surgical tools, and I was shocked at how little I was charged for a really beautiful set.” He smiles at the memory of that lively conversation with the knife maker- the long and winding sidetrack into Water country’s blade traditions compared to the Uchiha had been worth the scolding from Benten and Hime-chan for being late to dinner. “So don’t sell something precious for this, hold onto the memory a little longer.”

Akari manages a short laugh, “It’s loot from Papa’s last long mission. Big beautiful awkward loot taking up space in the loft. We’re not attached,” she waves a hand toward the ladder leading upward, but her mind isn’t there. “Why would you do this?”

Sasuke runs a hand through his hair, “I know how they feel. I tried to arrange an apprenticeship for myself when I was ten. That didn’t work out, because I had no leverage. Orphans on their own don’t, not when the adults have ideas about who we should be, but with a little help we can crack open the world. I’m trying to think more long term, less like I’m going to have to move on in a season, and find ways to help that fit a longer plan,” he lets out a cut off chuckle at the irony, “Well, assuming that I don’t annoy Kita-san and Tajima-sama into joining forces to run me off.”

“We won’t let them,” Akari counters instantly, “You can stay here or with Tsuyoshi or someone else whose life you’ll save between now and then. Have a little more faith in the clan, we’re not going to throw you away just because you’re awkward with family. You’re clearly out of practice.”

Sasuke looks down at his hands and wonders when he turned into Academy-era Hintata, but he doesn’t know what to say to that. 

Akari doesn’t say anything either, content for the moment.

Eventually the cat part of his brain nudges at him. “I’m curious. Can I see what you’re selling off?”

Akari shakes her head, but she’s smiling with some of the same mischief that had called Izuna out for lacking a personality, “I’ll show you when I can get them down from the loft myself, Sasuke-sama.”

“Blackmail to get you on your feet faster, I see how it is,” Sasuke snorts, “And please, Sasuke-san is what I prefer.”

“As you like. We should let the kids back in, they’re probably dying or concocting wild theories by now.”

Sasuke brings down the privacy jutsu and four children bust into the room from three sides in the space of ten seconds. He’s pretty sure the youngest doesn’t know what’s going on but just wanted in on the game, but she joins in on demanding to know what’s happening by planting herself in his lap. He laughs. 

The best family he’s ever had wasn’t the one he was born into, but the one he found.  _The ones you choose, who choose you back_ . He needs to remember that.

* 

When he returns to the healing hall with Satsuna, Yori laughs and says he’s found another little bird. Yumiori lists off the tasks that are appropriate for Satsuna to start on.

At lunch time Maru eyes Satsuna with consideration and then demands that she make arrangements with Hime for scheduling. 

Sasuke feels like he’s back in the Academy with Ino and Sakura for a moment before he tells them that they’ll have to learn to tolerate each other, because he has methods to deal with squabbling brats.

Maru sticks out his chin and dares him with every line of his body, but it’s Satsuna who says, “No you wouldn’t, Kenashi-nii says you’re a soft touch.”

Oh, is  _that_ what the kids think of him?

Maru should know better, but Satsuna will have to learn by direct consequences.

Sasuke whistles cheerfully as he eats his rice balls and nuts. _This_ is what it’s like to have genin. He won’t take them outside the compound so he’s not terribly concerned about losing his mind with stress about being adopted by a pair of preteens. His ungrateful brats are tied together and dangling from a tree branch until they can work together to free themselves. He used the comfortable rope but the complicated knots as a compromise between kindness and teaching. They’re only eleven and probably not trained for this. They can also ask, but it may take a while for either of them to drop their pride. 

“How’s it going?” he calls as he cracks a walnut shell and digs into the center.

“Sasuke-nii, you’re mean!” Maru whines, “Why am I tied up with her?”

Sasuke sighs, “Think Maru-bou. What did I say? How could that relate to why I would tie you two together, rather than separately?”

Satsuna wriggles, giving their oscillation a sideways element and turning it into an ellipse, “We have to work together. And you  _are_ mean, not a softy.”

“Very good, Satsuna-chan. You have correctly identified the point of the exercise. And why if I catch your brother spreading such scurrilous lies about me to anyone else I’ll do the same to him.”

Maru scoffs, “But you are a super softy. You’ll help anybody who asks and you’re a healer instead of in the Outguard despite being as strong as Izuna-nii.”

Sasuke sighs, “Do you even know what’s involved in being a healer, Maru-bou? The kind of healer that I am trying to be?”

There’s a particular expression that cats assume when they are pretending that they are in complete control and nothing can phase them. Sasuke is familiar with it, he uses it often enough. On Maru it fails because he’s too obviously imitating someone with an entirely different facial architecture. 

Satsuna huffs, “Izuna-sama couldn’t have saved Akari-nee from  _Hashirama._ But Sasuke-senpai did.”

Maru’s expression morphs as she speaks, the confidence shifting to confusion and then to comprehension. “I didn’t think of it that way. That’s bad ass, Sasuke-nii.”

“Thank you, but Tsuyoshi-oji and Madara-sama deserve some credit too,” he cracks open another nut and eats it. “Will you two be joining me for lunch?”

“Ugh! This is so _mean_ , Sasuke-senpai!”

* * *

Eira is too old and tired to deal with Tajima’s nonsense, so when he comes by to inform her of a new student in need of sensing training she doesn’t stop winding the threads through the mechanism of her loom, she only asks who it is.

The Amaterasu head is all too pleased to dump his nephew on her with a smug comment about being able to sense the Senju in their compound. Eira isn’t holding her breath, but she’ll send one of Shirushi’s small ones around the Healing hall to fetch the boy tomorrow. 

He shows up in the mid morning trailed by Kaiko arm in arm with Naka-Piper’s Satsuna. The girls are giggling about something and the young man looks amused at their antics under the general veneer of stress in his chakra and shoulders. Sasuke introduces himself politely as you please, but Eira can see him giving her a healer’s once over with both eyes and a gentle brush of chakra as she invites him inside and slides the door open. She doubts he even realizes what he’s doing, but she’s been doing this a long time and knows the tricks. He’ll have to keep his frowns to himself: there’s only so much that can be done for old back injuries and hand cramps, so she only troubles Yumiori and her herbalists in the winter when it gets particularly bad. 

“Kaiko-chan, surely Satsuna-chan has somewhere she’s supposed to be?” Eira asks as the girls follow them onto the engawa and start to take off their sandals. 

“Eira-obaa, I’m a healing apprentice now,” Satsuna holds up a bag that does smell rather medicinal, “I’m going to learn how to save people like Akari-nee.”

“Oh, I see.” Eira wonders where the means for that apprenticeship came from, but it’s something to find out from someone other than the orphan girl. 

“Satsuna-chan, you can practice spinning chakra into your thread while I talk to Eira-san,” Sasuke tilts his head toward the other girl, “You can show Kaiko-chan what you’ve learned so far, if you want.”

As expected, the challenge is accepted by both of the girls. 

Eira leads him into the side room where she keeps the maps, but doesn’t unroll the big one yet. “Tajima says you’re a sensor. Why haven’t you mentioned it to anyone?”

The boy pinches the bridge of his nose, “Until a few months ago I could sense someone like Izuna or Hikaku at about ten meters with no distractions, a Madara at twenty. If I wanted to know anything out of line of sight I’d get my summons to help, it was more effective,” He starts making a circling motion with one finger as he skims past a concerning sequence of events like they’re old and not very interesting news: “Then my luck happened repeatedly and I landed on a god-trap instead of home, and when I let the god out he undid an old curse on my chakra as a thank you. Removing that curse had several side effects that I’m still dealing with, but one is vastly increasing my sensing range when I channel yin chakra.”

Eira decides to table the god encounter for later and picks up the relevant bit of the explanation, “So you go from sensing a puddle to a lake.” 

He smiles at her easy grasp of the situation, “Yeah. As bad as adding a tomoe. So I did a lot of practicing before we got here, but it was easy to approximate range from angles while we were moving.” His grin fades into a rather grumpy pout, “Not so easy when I’m expected to stay put most of the day.”

Eira nods and unrolls the map, “Fortunately, we have a way of dealing with that.”

The kid’s eyes widen and then spin red as he scans over the map. It’s worth memorizing. The Uchiha lands in fine topographic detail and the surrounding lands in as much detail as they could manage. She explains how to use the Homeguard patrol groups as reference points, tracing the perimeter they maintain with her fingers. “There’s two Homeguard patrols out right now, can you sense either of them?”

He shuts off his Sharingan, concentrates with unfocused eyes and eventually taps the map in two places, then a third further out, in the less detailed area between the clan land and the artisan district to the east that the Outguard patrols erratically, “Izuna’s coming back from an errand,” he explains the third tap, then focuses again, probably seeking further out. 

Eira taps the table with her nails, thinking. None of the sensors in the Homeguard have that sort of reach: the patrol routes are split between Outguard and Homeguard partly to reflect this, with extra coverage on the southeast side from the Outguard and their sensors. “What’s the furthest thing you can sense?”

Sasuke blinks at her, “Thing or person?”

“Either,” she wonders at the question; human chakra is the easiest to sense at long range, animal chakra systems are never as well developed. 

He settles back onto his heels, humming softly for a minute before smiling, “The lightning struck tree where we hid from Tobirama. It’s going to live, but the fire in its core makes it easy to pick out.”

“And the furthest person?” she asks, curious who it will be.

Sasuke scowls at her, “Right now? Hashirama’s just south of the Senju compound doing something with his tree sage powers that makes it hard to sieve out anyone else specific in that quarter. Probably toss up between him and Izuna. There’s a squad up north about as far away as Izuna but I don’t know any of them well enough to name.”

“Sieve?”

The scowl deepens but he explains, “I have yet to train my brain to selectively ignore him.”

“You don’t use the typical Uchiha vocabulary for Filtering, are you entirely self taught in using your Sharingan?” She tries to keep her tone casual, but the curiosity is eating her alive. 

“No! I had help!” he hisses, shoulders hunching and lowering as his chakra flares with anger and then folds back into hiding, “Everyone who could have taught me was dead or just as ignorant as I was. So we had to work it out from hearsay, logic and experiments. It’s not traditional but it’s kept me alive long enough to get here and be told everything I’m doing wrong. Please, enlighten me, Eira-san.”

Eira shakes her head, not offended by his outburst at all. “Oh no, I’m not going to tell you how we do it until you tell me how you do it. I don’t want to contaminate your thoughts. We don’t get many new perspectives from actual kin: you might have found a new way that will work better for someone in the future. Why wouldn’t I want to know about that?”

He blinks at her and then smiles, a small thing mostly in the crease around his eyes, “I’ll tell you if you let me do something about the knots in your back. I’m pretty good at hot-hand massage even if you don’t want any actual medicine.”

“You drive a hard bargain, kid.”

“And you’re a stubborn old woman. Do you have a counter offer?”

“No, just pointing out how disrespectful this is.” She’s not actually offended.

“We’re respectful of patient wishes, but stubborn for stubbornness’s sake doesn’t qualify. Let me do something about your back, it’s barely any trouble.”

“If you insist.”

Eira lets the kid get behind her and start his work as she starts asking questions.

The easiest to start with is how he trained his brain to focus on the relevant in combat. Sasuke explains the training partner who wore orange, a very useful shortcut for ‘not background’ that kept him from focusing on things like leaves or dew on spiderwebs in the middle of a fight. “The world is full of beauty, but if you don’t pay attention to the orange one he’ll punch you in the face and laugh.” 

The more advanced training he describes as, “Step one was to be fast enough to react to what my eyes were telling me. Step two was to not just see, but to hear, smell, touch, and use my puddle of chakra sense to stay aware of my current situation and not just what my eyes were predicting. I have a problem with tunnel vision, so every little bit helps.”

Eira listens as her back twinges and then an old cramp uncoils, sending jangling relief through her whole body and she decides that she _will_ lie down rather than stay sitting for the entire massage. The training sequence he describes is not outside precedent, though using orange to train the eye to look for human attack patterns probably cut time off the process. It’s the second step of the advanced training that’s unusual, to stay firmly rooted in the present while still using the predictive ability of the Sharingan pattern recognition. But if one was fighting with teammates who could not also read into the future, it was probably wise.

“What about outside combat?” she ventures.

The snarl isn’t directed at her, and therefore hilarious, “What is the point of writing things down if you then file it in such a way that you can never find anything?”

“Ah yes, Write-only documentation.”

For all that he’s a second generation by-blow, the rant about re-indexing a noble’s records and then threatening the scribes until they agreed to maintain the new scheme is undiluted Amaterasu Lineage vitriol even if he doesn’t use the right words, and Eira smiles. He’ll fit right in.

* * *

Madara comes looking for him the evening after he meets Eira-san, while Sasuke is combining sensing practice with working through the latest basket of Outguard mending. Sasuke considers hiding, but he thinks chasing will only make Madara more angry. 

He doesn’t recall doing anything to stoke the rage furnace that is Uchiha Madara in the past few days, but he could have stumbled over some other unwritten rule of cohabitation without realizing it  _so very easily_ . It could be a pure coincidence that Madara is headed to this part of the garden rather than going directly to a hot bath. Not likely, but possible. Fortunately, the entire koi pond is right there if he needs put himself out.

Sasuke sets the shirt he’s mending on his lap and says, “Good Evening.” He doesn’t expect a verbal response, but there’s not so much as a nod. Even  _Izuna_ nods.

Madara tosses a pair of house slippers at him without a word.

_What?_ They don’t look like they need mending, they look new. Sasuke picks them up from his basket and sees the pattern of bats on the yellow background and realizes they’re for him. 

_Oh._ His heart clenches, but not with fear; Sasuke wonders how such a small thing can hurt so much after years. He hasn’t had house slippers anywhere but his own house and then apartment since the massacre. The Nara and his teammates are barefoot people, though Shikako had effectively claimed a pair of his guest slippers as her own by doing something to the soles that made them light up with every step if anyone else put them on.

“Thank you,” Sasuke manages to whisper. He has no idea what his face is showing, he feels like he’s lost control of it over the past few days. It must not be too bad, because Madara doesn’t recoil, he only nods and then retreats the way he came. 

Sasuke doesn’t choose to curl up around the slippers and cry into his knees, it just happens. He doesn’t want this to be home. Home should be some place where people will just yell at him if he fucks up. Somewhere he can look the people in the eye without having to fight off flashbacks to past tormentors. But his luck never runs good for long. This is what he’s stuck with.

At some point Hime-chan wriggles into his shirt in defiance of physics and starts purring, trying to soothe him. It helps, but he’s still a complete mess when a disgruntled Izuna yells across the pond for him to come to dinner.

When Sasuke doesn’t pop up immediately, Izuna repeats his demand with more words and even less politeness.

Sasuke wipes his eyes dry and steels himself for another hell meal. In bat-patterned house slippers. _‘I am the night.’_ Bat whispers in the back of his brain and he has to bite back a hysterical giggle. It would be funny to go to dinner in Anbu stealth, but Tajima might take it as an invitation for more questions, and there would be no other conversation to hide behind. He gathers up his basket and walks across the water to Izuna, “Coming, coming.” 

“Hurry up, you’re so slow. Next time I’m not waiting on you.”

“At least your tongue is quick sometimes, Izuna-sama.”

Izuna huffs, but walks back to the house with him rather than storming off. It’s nicer than Sasuke expects from his roommate. 

* 

He’s discussed replacement tiles for the bath with the potters and announces his intent to install them in the afternoon in two days once the other dinner conversations have wound down; Tajima is the only one to respond. He suggests that Sasuke put up string to cordon off the area, as people are likely to forget. It’s a good idea and civilly conveyed, so Sasuke thanks Tajima and returns his attention to his dinner. 

Of course the Amaterasu Head takes that opportunity to inquire about his activities that week.

Sasuke is so ready for this question now. The mundane details of financing the healing hall’s newest apprentice and spotting Tobirama’s solitary exit to points East during sensing practice are the highlights, the rest is a recitation of drudgery. Henceforth his reports to Tajima will be in the style of Team Red; absolutely true yet somehow leaving out everything interesting, incriminating or identifiable as modern in origin. 

In contrast to this new vow, Sasuke is  _absolutely_ going to use a roll of the new Konoha police force tape to block off the bathroom while he works on it. The little Uchiwa shuriken are so cheerful! He has no explanation for it, so he’ll have to come up with a story if anyone asks, but who is going to ask? No one is talking to him right now. He’ll spend an hour of tile setting coming up with increasingly unlikely stories that no one will hear. 

He thinks better of this plan before implementing it and recruits help. Sasuke estimates that adding Jōnen to the work crew will increase the work time from about an hour to at least two, but has many other benefits that will compensate.

Jōnen asks, “Why am I helping fix the clan hall washroom?” 

Sasuke thinks:  _Having another person in the room will keep me grounded in reality. This gets you out of the house for an afternoon and feeling useful, which is good occupational therapy even if you don’t have an occupation yet. Your sisters will be happy to see you so long as you don’t transform into a brat on them, and I could use a good mark with your sisters. Your grandmother needed a day off, though I didn’t realize that until I offered to take you._

What he says is, “I’m going to teach you a new jutsu today.”

Jōnen cheers, oblivious to the undercurrents, “New jutsu! Awesome! What kind?”

“Technically two, the first is for sensing what kind of earth you’re dealing with. The second is for breaking it. Precision work, but if you end up with reserves like your father or some of your cousins I imagine you could take down walls with it.” 

“Cool, but when are you going to teach me something with fire?” Jōnen asks, hauling himself higher on Sasuke’s back.

“You’re adorable,” Sasuke huffs, “Ikoma-shisou is better than I am, so if anyone is going to teach you Fire it’ll be your father, kitten.”

“What about lightning?”

Sasuke pretends to consider, “I do have a handy lightning trick I can teach you later if you’re really determined.”

“Absolutely!” Sasuke is looking forward to Jōnen’s reaction to learning that the trick is for removing cat fur from clothing and futons. He might be turning into as big a troll as Kakashi, but it’s so easy with actual children.

He uses the police tape to block off the entrance to the bath, but Jōnen doesn’t see fit to comment if he finds it odd. Perhaps there’s some local equivalent.

Demonstrating the seals with one hand and then letting the chakra flow down through his feet into the tiles of the bathroom is easy. Not cursing in front of the kid when the technique tries to map the topsoil layer of the entire compound rather than just the floor is harder. He tried to spread his chakra flat rather than deep, but it still shouldn’t have spread that far so fast. Jatayu cautioned him that the emotional and chakra effects of the god he’d contacted were unknown and would continue to manifest for some time, but  _what the hell?_

Sasuke tries again, using only a trickle of chakra this time and cutting it off when he’s achieved the desired size. The tiles in the clan hall bathroom are not nearly as complex as the old temple in the dead wastes, or even the seals in the diplomatic quarters; no energy lingers here. (Though he is struck for a moment by the notion of heated tiles for the winter, he tables it for Sannosawa’s class.) This jutsu is the small scale version of how he set loose the Stars from centuries of confinement, maybe that’s why it’s over-charging now? He’ll have to be very judicious with it while showing Jōnen and figure out the full effects later. 

Fortunately, the Stars lingering in his bones don’t consider the bathroom a trap and the repair turned lesson goes well. Sasuke was able to get more tiles from the potters than he needed, so a few cutting mistakes aren’t a big deal. 

Things get a little tense when they pull down the tape barrier and return to the clan hall. Midori is glaring at a tray of fish like they may descale themselves if she just gives them another minute. 

Sasuke lets Jōnen use his crutches to cross the distance behind him, instead trying to engage Midori, “Hey Midori-chan, we’re done with the tiles. Would you like some help with the fish?”

Midori’s skeptical look is over-developed for a ten year old, “Why have you not made up with Nee-san yet?”

Sasuke bites back a sigh and rephrases the answer from a few days ago, “I’m giving Kita-san space to feel as she chooses without imposing on her. I messed up by imposing on her, so it’s the least I can do.”

Midori doesn’t look any more convinced.

Jōnen thumps to a stop midway between them, “Wait, are we supposed to be mad at you?”

Sasuke doesn’t hold back the sigh this time, “It’s not required.”

“You shouldn’t have done whatever it was that made her mad!” Midori’s shoulders arch upward and her hands clench into unruly claws: the will to hurt him on Kita’s behalf is there, but not the training.

“Yes, I messed up. I didn’t mean to and I am trying to do better.” Sasuke presses his chakra out in a blanket of Calm that washes over both of the kids’ spiking emotions. It’s not entirely genuine on his part, but it makes Midori close her mouth long enough for him to finish, “This will last as long as it lasts. I will apologize when she’s ready for me to apologize. I can’t reach into Kita-san’s heart and make her relent faster than she’s ready to.”

“Use words. It’s what normal people do, Sasuke-san.”

Oh great, now she’s mimicking Izuna. Sasuke isn’t going to rise to her bait either, “Midori-san, I’m being patient and letting Kita-san feel what she feels without pressure to calm down early for my benefit. Sorry if that’s upsetting, but it’s not about what you or I want. What’s important is that Kita-san knows that her needs are being respected. So if it takes a month or a season or a year of you and Madara glaring at me while she processes, so be it.” he slashes his hand through the air in a dismissive gesture, “I’ve endured worse before.”

“I can be patient if it makes Kita-nee feel better.” Midori’s shoulders are still hunched, but her hands are pressed against her stomach instead of clenched. He figures he’ll be on thin ice with her until Kita decides to speak to him again, but at least they can stop these daily circular conversations. 

Jōnen looks between them, unsure if the argument is settled or not. 

“So, do you want help with the fish?”

Midori makes a face. Descaling _is_ her least favorite common cooking chore. “Yes please?”

* * *  


“Oh, Izuna-sama does look like you, Sasuke-senpai,” Satsuna-chan says as they head out of the healing hall for lunch.

Sasuke follows her gaze to Izuna and a loosely gathered circle of Outguard loitering under a nearby tree and smirks. “Oi, Izuna-ma, message for you.” He marches over to his face double with determined steps that no one tries to halt. 

Izuna isn’t expecting to get grabbed tenderly by the chin, so doesn’t dodge any more than Sasuke had, “Akari-san says, ‘One day your pretty face isn’t going to be enough to save you. And when that day comes you’re going to have to stop flirting from bed to bed and grow a personality.’” Sasuke releases Izuna’s face and his mimicry of Akari’s voice and smiles into the entirely predictable outrage from Izuna and laughter from the others. “I’d start with a sense of humor, but you do you, cousin.”

“What?!” Izuna growl-roars, swatting at the hand that Sasuke has already withdrawn.

Sasuke pretends to consider the question, “How does one explain humor to the humorless? Truly a question for philosophers.”

“Izuna has terrible taste in philosophers, so that’s out,” Jakuchi joins him in patently false consideration.

“Perhaps a practical demonstration?” one of the others in the circle suggests with a snort. 

“No demonstrations!” Izuna practically shouts, taking a half-step back as if Sasuke might explode at the slightest provocation. Which is unfair, he’s no Kako and hasn’t made anyone explode at all since he arrived in this time.

“Pretty mud princess Izuna-sama is far too delicate to survive anything practical, is true,” Sasuke mourns, “I’d try him at sewing but his tender baby thumbs, they would suffer so.”

“I don’t have tender baby thumbs!” Izuna raises both of them in strangling motions, “And I have a personality.”

Sasuke raises an eyebrow, “Petty isn’t a personality, try again.”

“I’m going to end you, you brat.”

“Empty promises from an empty man.”

The cackling all around them is sweet. 

* * 

“Yes! Leaf vanish!” Maru wiggles with excitement as the children gather around.

“Replacement technique,” Sasuke corrects gently, “which we’ll use to play tag once everyone has a feel for it.” He explains a tiny bit of the theory, the reach and the swap, and then names each hand sign as he does the long version, swapping himself with one of the variously sized logs he’d obtained for the purpose. Replacement technique is easier the closer in mass the two swapped objects are; as the group around him ranges from the newly returned Naeba to a fiercely determined Benten, Sasuke thought it best to level the training field for those with smaller reserves.

He leads them through forming the hand signs and shaping chakra, Star-enhanced senses fully alive as he checks their attempts and demonstrates the correct shaping to Sakuya, Satsuna and several of the others who’d joined them from the girls’ calligraphy class when they all try to put fire chakra into what should be a neutral technique. He wonders if you could leave a trail of elemental energy in your path, or imbue the replaced object with explosive chakra during the swap, but decides to table the idea for when he’s not surrounded by a dozen impressionable pyromaniacs. 

Sasuke lets them try it one by one as they get the chakra shaping correct, and children pop across the twenty feet to the log pile, leaving their classmates to dodge the falling chunks of wood until they learn better and spread out. Even Benten manages, though he finds a tiny kitten fastened onto his shoulder in a puff of calico fur and indignant fury. He pets Hime-chan as the last of Kenashi’s younger siblings flings herself through space and lands with a thump and a giggle. 

“Very good, all of you!” he praises them like Iruka-sensei would, then motions sternly in pure imitation of Zabuza, “Now I want a line of logs three paces apart, sorted by height. Let’s go!”

The scramble to organize is punctuated by two earnest height comparisons and a complaint about Tatsuo’s geta giving him an unfair advantage, but Kenashi’s pointed throat clearing chivies the others along and they work down the line replacing themselves with logs. 

“So, how many of you used the same log as the first time?” he asks once he has a cluster of around him again. About half of the group raises their hands or makes sounds of affirmation. He checks chakra levels and everyone is fine so far- Replacement is E-rank for a reason, “Okay, I want everyone to use the same log this time and then next time you’ll trade with the person next to you. Pay attention to how it feels each time, okay?”

Once they’ve done the two swaps he asks for their observations. 

“It was easier to use my log!” Satsuna declares without hesitation, “Sakuya-chan’s had her chakra on it and it was slippery.”

Sasuke hums and tilts his head at Sakuya. 

“I noticed Satsuna-chan’s chakra, but it wasn’t hard to grab onto,” Sakuya disagrees.

“I didn’t notice a difference at all,” Kenashi says, and Naeba looks thoughtful beside him. 

“Sasuke-senpai, could I try with a log you’ve used?” Naeba has reserves to spare, so he snags one of the unused logs from the pile and leaves some of his chakra behind on it rather than cleaning it off as Anbu procedure would demand. She replaces herself in his wake, an expression rather like Moku-san’s deciphering look as she lands. “You’re lightning,” she decides after a minute, “It wasn’t hard to grab onto but I had to use more chakra to make it My Log, had to wrap it all the way around your chakra.”

Sasuke grins, “Very good. When something has it’s own chakra you have to either enclose or match its chakra in order to use Replacement. Things that belong to you and have traces of your own chakra are easier, and things that belong to others will be harder. Dead things like logs and rocks are easiest. Other people are the hardest, unless you know them and their chakra very well.” He flexes his chakra and swaps places with Maru without using hand signs; Maru isn’t the only one who yelps despite being warned. He swaps himself back with a single leaf, which Tatsuo catches out of the air as it drifts down. “That sort of trick is advanced and you should  _not_ try it without supervision until you’ve practiced enough to need only one hand seal. But you can see how it could be useful for all sorts of shenanigans.”  
  
There’s something about conspiracy, a certain quality to the air as the children realize they’re learning an actual quick escape technique in the guise of a game. A technique the Adults don’t know.   
  
“So, who’s up for tag?”

*

Haruto rejoins the group of adults watching from a discreet distance as his woodpile pops around the farm yard in the wake of shouting and laughing children, glad for the sound in the bleakness of the past year. Sakuya runs five long steps in a frantic attempt to escape the older boy on chasing duty, but he runs out of his allotted steps before catching up so it becomes a race of hands shuffling through signs as Sakuya tries to divert his attention to someone else and the others in the game try to predict what object Kenashi will replace himself with. 

To one side Sasuke is spotting, calling encouragement and advice. He steps in to brace Benten’s shoulders when she tires and can’t call up the chakra to swap herself. 

“Ah, thanks for hosting Haruto-san, I know it was short notice,” Koresue says as he claims a section of fence. 

“It’s not often I get first shot at the gossip, and we’re glad to welcome you back.” 

“It’s been an interesting few months,” Koresue agrees, “and for the one we left here as well, it seems.”

“In some ways,” Haruto keeps his voice even as he reports the facts. There will be time for outrage when they get down to rumors, “Tajima-sama claimed him for Amaterasu but disinherited him in the same breath; Sasuke-san went for a healer and brought Moreya-sama in to contest something last month. Won too, from what little Moreya will say.”

“A healer?” Moku-san asks, turning away from the field of children to blink at him.

Sukeari’s ranking Outguard, but he’s also Haruto’s eldest brother and a fine judge of when to speak plainly and when to hint, so when he answers Haruto just listens. “Chakra healing. Got the shock of my life when he used that-” Sukeari points at the strange game of tag, “-to get me out of the White Demon’s reach and then stopped me from bleeding out. If I may ask, did he ever do the like while he traveled with you?”

“Not healing, but none of us were injured,” Moku-san says, dry as the deserts her clan calls home, “His bag of tricks may have a bottom, but we never found it. I’m sure you heard about our return last time?”

“After a fashion,” Sukeari won’t repeat Izuna’s rants again, but Haruto remembers and laughs anyway. “There was something that happened that I was hoping to get your opinion on.”

The conversation that follows raises goose-flesh all over Haruto’s arms and neck. He doesn’t believe that Sasuke was dragged here through the spirit world to fulfill Tsukasa-obaa’s dying wish for a guardian to confound the Senju and succor her great-grandchildren, but he can understand his mother-in-law’s contrary position on the matter.  _We’ve never had chakra healers, who knows what’s normal for them?_ Haruto is glad that his brother was drawn back from death, however it was accomplished. 

Sukeari will continue to look for the truth of it, but discreetly; Sasuke is family, and they all agree that he doesn’t need more political difficulties than living caught between the Outguard and Homeguard Heads already brings. And it might be something else entirely, more related to bird charming, than to traditional Uchiha means of reaching beyond the possible. 

Tarumae and her cats announce that dinner will be ready soon, so they should get the kids washed up. Haruto is glad most of them are getting worn down and can’t use their new technique to escape the adults circling to corral them. He doesn’t need the Sharingan to foresee future attempts complicated by this new technique. But it would also confuse Senju assassins should any appear in the compound like in decades past, so it will be worth the aggravation. 

* * *  


It’s a quiet morning. Maru is sleeping elsewhere for the first time in a week and Izuna was so tired when he dragged in last night that Sasuke decides to leave him be rather than proceed with his usual morning trolling.

Instead he washes up and sets about the first part of preparing breakfast: lighting the fire in the iori, setting water to heat for tea, checking to see if Kita set aside anything specific last night. He finds the ingredients for porridge and after a moment decides that he’s unlikely to disrupt today’s meal plan by starting the millet cooking. He uses a small pan with a longer handle to toast the millet like he’d learned from Koresue while traveling. He does this one scoop at a time to get an even toast, but makes the three scoops he’s seen Kita and Midori measure out for the usual portion of breakfast porridge.

Kita comes out of her room while he’s still scooping water into the porridge pot, but doesn’t approach the fire for tea water until she’s reached some decision.

Sasuke doesn’t ignore her, but he doesn’t force her to interact either. Easy enough to do when he needs to keep an eye on the heat levels of two different pots, scrape out a small mound of fish flakes into a bowl, and try to get an even chop on the okra and other vegetables. The Uchiha love their steel and have different knives for everything, so he selects the correct veggie knife and gets to work: he’s observed this enough that he doesn’t need guidance on the steps, just practice in keeping all the parts in mind to come together so nothing burns or is cold by the time the rest if ready to serve. He’s decided to think of it like coordinating several squads on related missions, with dependencies. It models far better than it should.

The emotional element of Kita’s chakra is well contained as usual, but she’s not aggressively serene at him either. This is as close to actual neutral as they’ve been in a week and he can spare the attention from the fire, so he decides to chance an apology.

He clears his throat, then starts in, “Kita-san, your anger is justified: I was a complete ass in leaving without letting you know. I apologize and I won’t do it again.” When she doesn’t object he continues, “I realize that I’ve been taking advantage of your hospitality and not in a forgivably fuzzy way. It’s not a justification for any of it, but I’m ready to tell you why its so hard to give you the trust you deserve,” he makes himself look at her face, “if you want to know. I understand if you don’t care to.” He tries to keep looking at her, he does, but it’s hard and he welcomes the need to move one of the pots a little further from the fire so he can glance at it for a moment and regather his will.

Kita takes the tea water and starts preparing a pot. “I would like to understand, but do not feel obligated if it hurts you.”

Sasuke sighs, “That’s the rub, isn’t it? It hurts me, but it’s hurting you too. And you didn’t _do_ anything, it’s another unfortunate coincidence of faces.”

She pauses with the teapot full of warm water in her hands, but understanding creeps over her face. “Do I look like someone you knew?”

“You look like a less stressed version of my older brother.” Sasuke has thought about how to explain the rest, and decided to keep it simple unless she wants more detail, “He seemed inoffensive right up until he really, really wasn’t.”

Kita sets the teapot down, “And then? What were his offenses?”

Sasuke sets down the knife and gathers the chopped okra to the side of the cutting board, “He killed our parents in front of me and tortured me into a coma with his Mangekyo, then left me to fend for myself. I was eight. He came back years later, after I’d found a teacher and friends who gave a shit about me, tried to kidnap one of them and tortured the other two the same way. He’s not a problem _Now_ but you could say he haunts me.”

Kita brews the tea stronger than usual as she thinks about his explanation. That’s a fair reaction to Itachi. He busies his hands and mind with the breakfast trimmings in the meantime. It feels good.

“Thank you for telling me,” Kita says, handing him a cup of the tea. “I wanted to apologize as well for dragging this out so long. I was upset with you for several reasons over that stunt and it took me some time to let go of my anger.”

Sasuke shakes his head, “I wasn’t thinking about living here in the right terms; stopping the bullying isn’t the same as getting a sock of freedom.”

Kita blinks and then lets out a snort of a laugh with no elegance to it before lifting her sleeve to cover her mouth, but the smile in her eyes is bright and not at all like his brother, “Indeed.”

Sasuke feels himself smiling back. He’s still not sure why socks signified release from onerous tasks, but with Kako-isms picking your battles is the key to sanity. “One day I’ll be good at being patient, but I’m still working on it. If it helps, I got told off much the same by my summons for not taking the time to think.”

Kita sips her tea, thoughtful, “Maybe we can get you a temporary sock.”

Sasuke checks and Tajima’s chakra is still in the deep part of a sleep cycle. Best time for plotting. He leans forward to listen; this should be good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sasuke confirmed gremlin teenager, but he's trying.
> 
> We boot this chapter out to make way for the next.


	12. High Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The High Ground and other Paper Thin Advantages

Sasuke wakes up to two pairs of glowing eyes looming above him. He freezes.

Madara is standing at the edge of the room division, Sharingan whirling at slightly different speeds as he stares down at Sasuke’s bedroll. His face and chakra are both suspiciously blank of any intent, which is the only reason Sasuke isn’t already at Yori’s house. Above Madara on the ceiling, Hime’s grass-green eyes are much easier to read; the hunter waiting for the prey to make one wrong move. Sasuke squints: _who the fuck gave my kitten a knife?_

He makes a small prrur sound that sounds innocent but actually means _'Stand Down.’_

Hime-brat wiggles her ass in pre-pounce defiance. The last thing he needs is to try to mediate between a murderous kitten and a sleep walking Madara who can apparently use the Sharingan.

Fortunately, the sound stirs Izuna, who rolls in his futon and mutters, “Go to bed, niisan.”

Madara turns like the sleepwalker he is and shuffles toward the door. His hair swings in a loose braid, containing the usual wild locks. Sasuke hisses at Hime, but she shadows him from above until he’s safely back in Kita’s room before returning to report all clear.

Sasuke makes her sheath the knife and store it away; typically she won’t name her source. Then he indulges in some well earned hyperventilating and kitten snuggles. Izuna stirs on the other side of the room, asking after his brother in sleepy confusion, so Sasuke relocates to the engawa to finish his panic attack in peace. 

_Gods and little kami,_ he thinks as he looks up at the stars above and swings his bare feet through ticklish stems of monkey grass to ground himself, _save me from sleep walking Mangekyo. Please make at least that an act of conscious will, oh world of weird luck. Yours sincerely, Uchiha Sasuke._ He doesn’t clap, because that would disturb the sleeping house, but he does tap his toes on the earth twice.

Around him, the song of the cicadas goes quiet for a moment. The frogs and night birds take longer to still and start up again almost immediately, so the actual silence is less than a breath.

Still Creepy.

He flicks his own Sharingan on to survey the sweep of stars and feel the certainty that whatever else, one kami is on his side. The chakra in his bones _sings_ in answer and Hime goes still beside him. 

He lets go of his Sharingan, but he can still see, the collected starlight as bright as a full moon without the drama. It’s not the same as a nature change, the twist in his chakra is smaller and more instinctive. He’ll have to test to see how this technique deals with sudden flares of light sometime, but for now it’s enough that he can see with only the same level of glowing eyes that a cat suffers.

He steps down from the engawa and into the garden. He's not going to sleep tonight anyway, so he may as well do something useful. Hime leaps onto his shoulder and makes an inquisitive noise. 

“Need supplies to stress cook,” he mutters, slipping into the shadows of the moonless night and heading for the less picked over stands of trees and bushes in the southwest end of the compound. Sasuke loses himself in the simple process of foraging for a while, plucking certain leaves and digging up roots that counted as semi-secret ingredients Chouji and Kakashi taught him to look for at different points over the years. 

Thinking about the Akimichi heir gives his memory a chance to start lecturing about the dangers of sleepwalkers, which is not something that Sasuke wants to think too hard about. Waking a sleepwalker can lead to disorientation, making the _Just Wake Him Up_ option a dicey one if Madara decides to do more than just stare in the future. 

Disoriented Madara is only slightly less predictable than sleeping Madara, and every bit as dangerous to try to non-lethally subdue. 

Sasuke nearly steps on a grouse sleeping under a bush and his nerves are still wound tight enough that he punches it out of the air before it can collide with him. It falls to the ground with a broken wing and ribs and he quickly kneels down to finish it off. _Fuck, pay attention Hawk! But that’s fresh meat. Could make field expedient dumplings if I can find Boom Lettuce._

Maybe if there was some way to hold Madara still but let him think? Like a snooze button on the violence. A shadowbind without shadows. The new Konoha police genjutsu would be less than useful against a Sharingan sleepwalker. Duplicating Kako’s knockout tags might be easier but Tajima would use them to escalate the feud in terrifying ways. It’s something to think about if it happens again.

Madara was gone all day on a mission and had no way of knowing that Kita had forgiven Sasuke for his social failures and reverse summoning shenanigans. Actually, the way his eyes had spun at two different speeds was worrying in itself, but there hadn’t been anything obviously wrong in Madara’s chakra, so it should keep until morning. 

He has cooking to do. Starting with plucking the grouse. Fun.

* *

“Is this going to be a regular thing now?” Izuna asks, sniffing the air and trying to identify what his roommate was cooking this time. There’s a stack of hot boxes sitting next to Sasuke that he's very curious about, but he’ll need some sort of distraction to get a peek.

Sasuke hands Midori a spoon to stir the breakfast porridge and spins the strange rack of darkened glass containers before answering, “I haven’t asked Kita-san if she wants help on the breakfast rotation. There were extenuating circumstances this time.” He plucks one of the containers and gives the lid a half turn before sniffing and shaking his head, then tries another. 

“Are those spices?”

Sasuke bites back whatever sarcastic remark he was going to make and nods. “Do you have any allergies beyond the Uchiha Sharingan mind-blender ones?”

Izuna shakes his head, counting the number of containers in the rack and trying to run costs for that variety of spices if you didn’t have a Akimichi contract for sealing storage buildings. Shifty Orphan Cousin must have been making good compensation for whatever he was up to before he got “lost” if even a quarter of that rack is imported.

Sasuke pulls out another of the containers and passes both of them over, “Which appeals to you more?”

Izuna carefully breathes in the scent from each bottle. The first is sweet with a hint of bitterness. The second is stronger, a warm mix of smoky and citrus with a tang of pepper. Neither are common in Uchiha dishes but he thinks he’s tasted them before, somewhere. He holds the second bottle up, “This one. What is it?”

“Cardamom, a good choice. The other is cumin.” Sasuke takes them both back, slots the cumin back into the rack and then opens one of the large hotboxes, flicks a generous pinch of the cardamom into whatever is inside and stirs before tasting and nodding.

Before Izuna can ask who Sasuke’s courting with fancy spices, his face-double closes the hot box, nests it together with the small box and rises to shuffle around so he can look Izuna in the eye when he kneels back down.

Then he sets the offering in front of Izuna with a precise motion. _What Water nonsense is this?_

“I woke up to Madara looming over me like a zombie. Thank you for making him go away. Thank you for asking for the room dividing seals. Please accept these and my gratitude.”

Izuna blinks his eyes shut, trying to remember any of that. He doesn’t disbelieve it, he just doesn’t recall. Madara’s sleepwalking is old news at this point. Of course Izuna will tease him for getting lost on the way to Kita’s room when he gets done washing up.

He opens his eyes and reaches for the boxes. No reason to turn down a chance to taste more exotic spices for himself.

The top one holds three mushrooms the size of his fist, stuffed with some finely chopped mix of veggies and nuts and flecked with specks of white, red, and yellow. The second box has a half dozen leaf-wrapped packets that smell like spiced meat and fried eggs when he puts his nose into the box to take a sniff. There’s a dish of dipping sauce that smells of soy sauce and mirin and the cardamom.

“Field expedient dumpling wraps, but they’re still pretty good,” Sasuke murmurs, subdued.

“Oh, I am accepting them,” Izuna assures him, “Just curious what tasty weirdness you cooked up this time.”

“Accepting what?” Madara asks, rubbing at his neck like he slept wrong.

Izuna grins, “I get snacks for making you go back to bed, niisan. If you keep wandering in your sleep maybe I’ll get to taste the entire spice rack.”

“Even with the room divided, waking up to looming Sharingan staring at me is horrifying,” Sasuke declares, “If it happens again I’m asking Kita-san to put a leash seal on him.”

Madara goes red.

“A leash on who?” Kita asks before Madara can do more than splutter.

“On Niisan!” Izuna cackles, “To keep him from sleepwalking very far.”

“Oh dear.” Kita’s amusement is spritely, a vast improvement over the past week, and Madara’s head snaps from Sasuke to her in surprise. “I didn’t realize he would do that if I was around, Sasuke-san.”

“Not your fault, Kita-san. Sleepwalkers are unpredictable,” Sasuke waves her off.

Izuna snorts, that is both true and untrue. Madara is terribly predictable in his cuddle tracking.

“But you are a terrifying zombie even without any killing intent, Madara-sama,” Sasuke glares, smacking the tatami next to him. “Now sit so I can check your head. Eyes spinning at two different speeds is worrisome even if you don’t feel injured.”

Madara opens his mouth to protest but Sasuke smacks the tatami again and Madara folds so Sasuke can examine his head with delicately probing fingers and the faintest flickers of chakra.

Izuna decides to try one of the dumplings with the sauce. The sound he makes as he chews and swallows the first bite is entirely involuntary and has the entire room staring at him, but he doesn’t care. “Who did you kill for this recipe, _an Akimichi?_ ”

“We’re _friends.”_

“So you killed someone For Them.”

“Not anyone you know,” the snap-back is more joke than admission of bartered assassination, but Akimichi food might be worth it in sufficient quantity.

“And they didn’t teach you anything but field cooking, did they?” Izuna doesn’t know if he wants to cry or scream, but he knows a tragedy when he hears one.

* *

They’re in the courtyard scrubbing laundry when the hawk pops into existence above Sasuke’s head and screeches, “Come quick, he’s killing them!”

Sasuke drops his end of the linen sheet and steps clear of the tub, a line of chakra whipping out to snatch his bag from the other side of the yard and slingshot it into his arms, “Where?”

“Frost, near Kosei pass,” the hawk flaps her wings to not run into Oizuru’s head, circling them. “Hurry, there are children with them.”

Sasuke slams his left hand into the dirt and a second, much larger hawk appears. “Garuda,” he greets the hawk as the chakra smoke of summoning clears and whatever other orders he gives are lost in the flash of Sasuke’s Sharingan, finally used with the confidence it deserves. The giant Summon nods his head and the downdraft of his wings sends all the laundry in the yard flapping as he leaps into the air.

Oizuru snatches his own bag of healing supplies from the edge of the genkan and grabs onto Sasuke’s shoulder as the fool catches the smaller hawk on his wrist and chakra builds around them both.

The world blurs. Oizuru’s stomach tries to drop out from under him, but he holds onto his lunch and his idiot.

Then they are falling toward a mountain pass. The air would be chilly even if it wasn’t streaming past them; the taller peaks are still topped with snow even this close to Tanabata, the pass is a tangle of rough scrub flowering in the highland summer and the bare stone of the established paths. Below them is one last Uchiha trying to fight off the Drowning Breath with inadequate fire jutsu and knives, several other bodies on the trail around them a testament to the futility of their struggle. Oizuru activates his Sharingan more on instinct than any expectation of fighting the Senju off; he’s been using it enough lately that the drain won’t limit his ability to heal, but it might save him from a stray projectile or jutsu before then.

Sasuke shoves something into his hand and his fall slows- some sort of rock? Oizuru gets a good hold on it regardless, he can reinforce his prosthetic but he still doesn’t want to test it with an impact on mountain rock.

Oizuru’s prize idiot plummets directly toward the blue armor of Senju Tobirama, crackling with chakra and whistling like an enraged tea kettle. **_"Tobirama!"_** Oizuru can hear him bellow the white demon’s name as he nears and the other man disengages with an almost absent stab toward the last Uchiha standing, dropping her to the stone.

The Senju dodges away.

Sasuke corrects course in mid-air with a wave of his arm- a _hawk summoner thing?_ to land between Tobirama and his victims. When he hits the earth Sasuke’s chakra flexes and he splits in three, two copies peeling off to start triage while the middle figure confronts Tobirama. They aren't Genjutsu clones, they have too much chakra and make the plants sway as they pass. Oizuru has never seen him replicate like that, but no one in the compound has seen Sasuke fight. None of the older and retired Outguard wants to be first in the sparring ring with him, the sacrifice so that others can learn how he operates. Oizuru has a private bet with Hikaku about who it will be; Hikaku thinks that Izuna will convince Madara to do it instead.

The middle figure -Oizuru will assume he is the original for now- pauses to scoop something off the ground from between his feet, and Oizuru realizes with horror that it’s a baby. The mother must have bundled them into a sack and shoved them under a bush and a Genjutsu in a final bid to hide them from a watery death. Sasuke pulls the bag’s loop over his shoulder, but the movement disrupts the Genjutsu assuring stillness; a small hand reaches out of the bag and Sasuke shifts his hold tighter so the kid can get a reassuring grip on his shirt.

“Tobirama!” Sasuke’s voice is loud enough to cut through the wind of the pass, angry in a way Oizuru has never heard it, “It’s been months and you still can’t Sense the difference between children and legitimate targets? What are you doing? _I Am Ashamed To Know You!"_

Senju Tobirama is staring, his sword held in loose fingers as if forgotten. “Where did you come from, you weren’t with them- You weren’t anywhere around here!”

Oizuru lands a few meters further up the trail from the Senju and starts helping the Sasuke-clones triage the bodies around him. He’s not a strong sensor, so he has to get close, but he can tell that not everyone is completely dead yet. He keeps an eye on the confrontation while he steps carefully toward the first not-quite dead teen with a blood clotting bandage at the ready. It was a long shot, given how thready his chakra was, but not impossible.

“I have my ways! You aren’t the only sensor in fire country. _Stop that!"_ Sasuke pulls a tanto from his bag with his free hand and it lights up with sparkling star-fire chakra as he steps sideways, placing himself between Tobirama and a bush covered crevasse. Then Sasuke splits again, and the new clone moves down into the crevasse. A long moment of standoff later the copy rises with a pair of kids holding onto his shirt. They look about four and eight, and they stare at Tobirama with baleful, fearful gazes. A moment later a third and fourth child climb into sight, older but still too young for any sort of battle, maybe ten and twelve.

The Drowning Breath looks horrified. His blade wavers and slides from his hand before he catches it by the cords. His resolve is not so easily recovered.

“This is who you were about to attack, sight unseen,” Sasuke snarls. “Get out of my sight, Tobirama.”

He does.

Oizuru watches to make sure it isn’t a trick, but the White Demon of the Senju runs down the pass away from them, almost tripping over himself and the rough terrain in his haste to get away.

Original Sasuke still has soap suds on his arms as he extinguishes his star-fire blade and returns it to his bag. Oizuru is covered in soap too, but he feels he is inherently less ridiculous. He’ll save the swearing for later, because this situation is terrible and they have bleeders, but _what the fuck?_

_* *_

Uchiha Katami cannot remember a day worse than this. She’s determined to hang onto her life so that the misdirection Genjutsu she’s put around her children will last as long as possible, struggling to breathe as her sister makes a final, feral stand against the Drowning Breath.

There is darkness.

Then there is a voice coaxing her back to wakefulness. No, that’s swearing as someone holds her fast to life: _“Dammit, I know it hurts, but you’re not dead yet. The water’s out, breathe!”_

That first breath feels like daggers in her chest, but the second is almost normal. Katami opens her eyes to Izuna’s face hovering over hers, then moving away. “Good, good. Can you drink?”

It’s not Izuna’s voice, and when Katami blinks she can see the differences in this boy’s scowl. She’s on her side and the idea of drinking anything fills her with horror, yet she does feel inexplicably parched. “Who?” she manages to rasp.

“Sasuke of Amaterasu,” he tugs at chakra that lays over her skin and she can feel the threads of a jutsu being held out to her, “Hold this until breathing doesn’t hurt so much, then you can let it go.” He holds out a flask as well. “And drink this, it’s not plain water, I promise.”

Katami takes hold of the jutsu and ignores the flask, forcing the sluggish parts of her brain to focus. It’s not familiar, but as she flexes her chakra into the pattern, she feels like she took an invigorating breath of fresh air at a comfortable altitude… through her skin. It’s not stranger than a surprise cousin popping up out of nowhere, she supposes. No stranger than waking up when she thought she was dead. “The children?”

“Here,” the boy tending to her swaps places with an exact duplicate of himself without the healer’s smock, holding Kiso in one arm and Aso-kun clamped to his other side. Kannin and little Kenashi and Tadashi all rush after and pile into her for hugs, the pent up tears ripping out of them when they see her sitting up to reach for Kiso.

Kitami holds her children and sobs. Even if everyone else is dead, at least the children are alive.

But then another Sasuke in a healer’s smock with different pockets carries her husband over and adds him to the cuddle pile before heading off again. Ryu looks even more confused than she feels, but wastes no time in hugging them all.

Then the first Sasuke appears again a few minutes later with her father, also water-logged but alive. Katami dares to look around. There are three achingly familiar bodies lying in a row with their faces covered, blood on their coats and the ground around them. A little ways down the slope a third smocked Sasuke is doing some kind of field surgery on Koharu with the help of Oizuru the healers’ assistant, while uphill different-pockets Sasuke coaxes Tsukeo to breathe for himself and reverts the boy to a stammering mess.

The initial drowning treatment does involve forcing air back into the lungs by sharing breath… Not actual kisses, but enough fluster a lad usually too quiet to be asked for many at Tanabata. Sasuke is as handsome as Izuna, with less perpetual anger lines. He even smiles when Tsukeo accepts the flask and drinks without balking. Tsukeo blushes but manages to say something. _Oh my._

The Sasuke-copy still cuddling Tadashi and Aso-kun and the one settling her father into the circle both insist that they all drink the ‘lemon aid’ from the flasks they’ve been given. Or one of them will be forced to make tea. Kannin urges her to try it, and it’s actually not bad tasting, the sour balanced with sweetness and a tiny bit of salt. Katami makes herself take another sip, then glares her husband and father into following the healer’s advice.

It’s a relief when the extra Sasukes finish bringing the survivors to the circle and converge on the one working with Oizuru, each making eye contact with what must be the original and then vanishing into chakra smoke. The one sitting with them waits until the surgery on Koharu is done to hand over Tadashi and Kiyami’s Umbrella bag, but in the process of prying Aso-kun from his side the four year old puts a thrashing leg through the copy’s head and he vanishes in a puff of smoke.

Aso-kun’s protests pause, then his tears take on a whole new horror.

The original covers the few steps between them in a blink, kneeling down to hug the newly orphaned child and assure him that not everyone is dead. Aso-kun punches him in the shoulder, and when he remains solid, cries into his shirt.

Tsukeo and Ryu are steady enough to go carry Koharu over to the circle at Oizuru’s direction, with care to prevent more jostling of her injuries.

“There was so much blood, but there’s no wound?” Ryu asks as they bundle Koharu into fresh clothes and extra layers of blankets to keep her warm.

“It’s clean and closed, but there are limits even to the yang nightmare healing jutsu with gut wounds. She’ll be on a liquid diet and twice daily checks until she heals,” Oizuru explains. “Turns out that drowning is easier to fix than stabbing.”

“It is if you can get to the people in time. But there can be complications-” Sasuke begins, then trails off into silence. He rubs at his temples with the hand not wrapped around Aso-kun, brow creased.

Oizuru surveys them all, then asks, “How long until that backup gets here?”

“A few hours from when they left if the winds are good. Aruna can only carry one person, so it had to be Garuda.”

“So another hour and a bit. No, you’ve done enough for now. We can deal with the rest,” The retired Outguard turned healer reaches into his umbrella bag and drops a blanket across the boy’s shoulders while muttering about ‘my prize idiot.’

Sasuke makes a soft sound of protest, but wraps the blanket around himself and Aso-kun and ducks his head. A vague worry in the back of Katami’s mind calms; he’s not some spirit who stole Izuna’s face, but a fallible human trying his best. Just like the rest of them.

* *

Madara loves his little cousin, but he is concerned that Sasuke’s been keeping a few too many secrets when the giant hawk lands in the Outguard training area and calls, “Madara-dono!”

Everyone stops the exercise and the Summon continues, “Thank you. A group of your kin is being attacked in Frost Country. Sasuke-dono has gone ahead to deal with the attacker and heal who he can. If you are willing, he asked me to carry you and a small group of your choosing there to help. It is several hours flight, so a few minutes to gather supplies will not be amiss.”

Madara has a lot of questions, but he focuses on the important things. He motions at his squad and they all scramble toward the Outguard Hall to gather their supplies and what extras might be needed for kin attacked in Frost country, of all places. He starts running towards the Clan Hall, startled when the hawk shrinks and follows. But it does let him start on his questions, “Sasuke’s gone ahead? Can we follow in the same way?”

“Alas No. Call Summoning is only for those who have signed, and you have not yet.”

“Yet?” Madara dodges around a pair of strolling grannies and makes the last turn toward home and the coat he knows his cousin will have left in his room. The habit of keeping it close to hand when not wearing it has yet to sink in. He can’t help but think that teleportation would be awfully handy about now, and he does love hawks.

“Your care for Kashi-kun has not gone unnoticed, Madara-dono, but that is for later.”

Madara feels awkward skipping above the floor on a cushion of chakra, but he doesn’t want to draw Kita’s wrath by tracking mud across her clean floors, and no one is in the clan hall to fetch the coat for him. Then he realizes that he can’t go into Sasuke’s side of the room. The hawk flutters awkwardly in the doorway, and Madara holds out his arm as a perch automatically. He’s heavy, but that maybe shouldn’t be surprising, given his flexibility in size. “Can you fetch the coat there? And I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

The hawk nods, and Madara braces as he launches himself across the room, digging his talons into the collar of the folded coat like snatching a rabbit from the field before turning in a tight circle and returning with his prey. “I am Garuda, son of Queen Vinata. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Madara-dono.” He drops the coat into Madara’s grasp and circles, but doesn’t see anything else they need on the shelves of books and other paperwork that takes up most of Sasuke’s storage space.

Madara feels unaccountably warm as he and Garuda exit the same way they came. “If it’s going to take hours anyway, why the rush?”

“Sasuke and Sannati will have dealt with the initial threat one way or another by the time we arrive. But healing requires much focus and chakra, and if the battle should attract opportunists or the enemy regroup and try again, then they will need us to defend them.”

That makes an appalling amount of sense. “Did he not take _anyone_ with him?”

“I believe the other healer, Oizuru-san, is with them,” Garuda sounds nearly as worried as Madara feels.

Madara spots Sukeari on the path to the Outguard Hall and calls to him. Izuna will need to know about Madara’s unplanned absence, and to pass it along to Father when he gets back from his shopping trip. They meet Sharingans and Madara passes along what information he has. Sukeari curses at the news of another attack, but wishes him luck.

Flying under most other circumstances would be exhilarating. Garuda grows large enough to carry the entire squad, though it is awkward to sit or stand so close together on his back for the entire flight time. Knowing that they’re flying toward the site of another attack by the Senju on their trading kin damps the joy into a sort of distant curiosity about the landscape skimming past beneath them. Garuda invites Madara to move forward and lie along his neck, to more easily converse and see their path, and it’s impossible to refuse.

It doesn’t take long before they strike up a conversation about their one mutual acquaintance and start dragging him through the verbal mud, of course. Madara shakes his head, “Planning? I was told no plan before you showed up!”

Garuda bobs his head, “Exactly. Getting him to share his end goals is almost impossible, there is only creating opportunities for later action. Setting Sannati to watch your enemy? Not out of line. Giving her the means to summon herself to report? Reasonable. Using that to summon himself across countries? Ridiculous! Yet even I am not sure if he plans these things or just throws himself across the logical gaps because his friends do, certain that the risk is worth it if someone is saved.”

Madara wonders too. Garuda would know if Sasuke hadn’t survived whoever was hunting Uchiha in Frost Country, but there was a whole range between the cousin who’d this morning teasingly promised Izuna more dumplings for Tanabata and a corpse.

They’re most of the way there- they must be, from the shape of the mountains rising up to meet them- when Garuda spots something in the air and calls out a challenge.

The return call is eerie, echoing from the stone ridges around them well before the shape comes close enough to be recognised by merely human eyes. The smaller hawk is still more than large enough to be a threat, and Madara would be concerned except that Garuda is calm.

“Sannati!”

“Big Brother! You’re here!”

“What’s wrong, little sister?” Garuda asks as the smaller hawk slows and turns to fly abreast of them.

Sannati lets out what can only be a cry of dismay, “I was too slow to call for help! I thought he was just following them to scout. I thought we had more time! Once I saw him attack I brought Taicho as fast as I could, but a few of them died before we made it back.” The cry this time is pure mourning, and it rips into Madara’s heart to hear it from a stranger. The others on Garuda’s back start murmuring at this news, but don’t interrupt.

Garuda makes a sound of sympathy, but it has a note of sterness in it, “We cannot predict what the cat-humans will do. Sasuke had you watching the Water-Cat, yes?”

“Yes. Taicho ran him off and I made sure he _kept_ running!” the words are fierce, as is the clack of her beak.

“Good. Can you show us where the survivors are now?”

“Of course, follow me!”

Madara doesn’t need warning to hold tighter to Garuda’s neck as Sannati cups her wings and leads them into a series of swoops and updraft traverses that ends on the upper slope of a pass between two towering peaks. The lower slope is already dipping into shadow as the day grows long and the sun moves down the sky, but the sun still shines on the group in indigo huddled together on the bloody path. Madara can see where several bodies have been laid out but the majority of the group is alive.

Sannati and Garuda both let out cries of warning, and the Uchiha wave greetings but the huddle takes a long moment to start to break, and the Outguard squad is faster. Hisaie takes a moment to throw a kiss at the ground, but otherwise they all know their jobs and act accordingly. Madara trusts his squad mentor Katsukane to take care of securing the area: this is the group that travels under the leadership of his maternal Uncle, with two of his cousins, their husbands and their children. He needs to see which of them survived before he can focus on details like who and why.

The survivors are mostly young, and part of Madara relaxes even as another part mourns the loss of so many elders. Katami calls out a greeting but doesn’t rise. He realizes why when he comes close enough to see that Uncle Kenashi is still alive, just not upright. She’s holding the smallest children and keeping the others clear of the proceedings.

Kenashi is laid out on his side on a stack of blankets between Oizuru and Tsukeo on either side adding to the aura of warmth. Sasuke meanwhile kneels at his head with his eyes closed, in his summer weight shirt and a blanket draped over his shoulders like a scarf doing nothing to keep him warm. As Madara steps up he flexes his left hand into a pair of hand signs and then runs green glowing energy over Kenashi’s chest, making a circle in one spot before running the energy upward toward his throat. The older man coughs violently several times, until he spits something onto Oizuru’s trousers.

“Got it that time, I think,” Sasuke returns his hand to Kenashi’s chest and closes his eyes again, checking. Then the glow fades.

Madara pulls the gambling youkai coat from his umbrella bag and when Sasuke rises to greet them Madara suits actions to words as he bundles him into it, “I cannot _believe_ you teleported to the mountains of Frost country without your coat! You’re going to freeze and who's going to fix your fingers if that happens? You don’t have fire nature to keep you warm, you can’t just wander around in your shirt.”

Madara’s small cousins from his mother’s side giggle as he pulls out a scarf and wraps it around Sasuke’s neck. At least changed into a decent pair of boots at some point, so his toes are safe. _Honestly!_

Oizuru stirs from his seat next to Kenashi enough to poke Sasuke in the leg, “Tell our idiot to quit it with the attempted solo antics too, Madara-sama. We Worry!”

Madara chuckles, then resumes his concerned yelling, knowing it’s no more likely to work on Sasuke than on Izuna, but obligated to try. “Agreed! You’ve got a clan now, Sasuke, you don’t have to run off on your own! Grab back up! No one’s going to argue about saving kin! Even on no notice!”

For his part, Sasuke seems to have frozen, until a pair of tears trail down his cheeks. Then he comes back to life, swiping at his face. “Sorry, I haven’t had a big family in a long time. I’m not any good at it.”

Madara moves slowly in case of objections, but Sasuke melts into the hug. He is surprisingly warm for how little he was wearing a moment ago, but Madara’s point stands.

Behind them, Tsukeo speaks up, “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing Great.”

A general chorus of agreement breaks out among the trading branch survivors, and Madara can hear the small laugh that sneaks into Sasuke’s carefully controlled breathing.

Madara can save the yelling about confronting Tobirama for later, when he has back up and the whole story. He gets the feeling it’s going to be harrowing.

* *

_In memory, Tobirama narrowed his eyes at Maki’s last stone: he’s still not sure what her obsession with this bit of territory is, but because of the Ko-rule he can’t take it back immediately. He placed a stone to strengthen his northwest territory and jumped when Maki slammed her next stone down almost as soon as his hand came away._

_She’d gone from stonily brooding to smiling triumph in his senses, so he looked at the entire board with a more critical eye. With that stone she’d just secured her own southern territory and weakened his eastern territory to attack; he might be able to keep her from eliminating it entirely but not without sacrificing half its size. While he’d been distracted with the ko in the middle of the board, she’d been laying her traps._

_"You’ve been holding back,” Tobirama accused._

_"I?” Maki gestured toward herself with false innocence, “I would never do that to my honorable squad leader. If I were playing a sneaky cat bastard, on the other hand, well? Needs must.”_

_Tobirama counted territory and decided to concede rather than draw this out. He could feel Koenma approaching to ruin his concentration anyway._

_Maki cackled as they cleared the board._

_When he arrived, Koenma was holding the old scrap of paper the team had built the pattern of a menacing hat for translation. He waved a greeting before spewing out a torrent of words, clearly hoping to get them all out before they vanished into the vast swirl of his mind, not to surface again for a week. “Mom says it’s for sure a Terumii Hat, and you read those in order, the more vital message is on top.”_

_He laid the scrap of paper across the go board, pointing, “Non-Aggressive and Dangerous When Provoked are on top. The bottom says: Dangerous at Sword-range, at Shuriken range, at Bow or Ship range, and Dangerous at Letters Range. Mom says it’s a little strange to not have a specialty listed on a warning hat, but Uncle says that some people are dangerous because they aren’t bound by specific tools or habits. Apparently your obake is a menace by existing outside the rules, Tobirama.”_

_Maki dropped little piles of stones on the corners to keep the paper from rolling back up, “At least we won’t have to waste time planning for anything specific, that would be a tragedy.”_

_Koenma barked a laugh, “Yeah, it’s worse than that,” his tone serious and a little strained, “Uncle says that the Dangerous When Provoked is another way of saying ‘don’t piss ‘em off or they might follow you back to your island and blow it up’ because it’s the Terumii doing the warning and you’ve got to take that into account.”_

_Tobirama coughed, “Clearly he’s decided not to blow up the compound.”_

_"For now. That non-aggressive symbol might mean he doesn’t kill,” Maki suggested, “But it doesn’t mean he won’t follow us home someday for mischief.”_

_"Or that he hasn’t already,” Koenma looked thoughtful and a little worried._

_Tobirama tapped the last symbol on the sheet, “What does it mean, exactly, to be dangerous at letters range?”_

_"Ah, even if they’re far, far away they can still get you. Like they’ve got friends or can break your alliances by sending a letter,” the redhead rubbed at the back of his neck, “From what you said and what we’ve seen, I think it’s referring to how he can just show up unexpectedly and then pop out again.”_

It made sense at the time.

Now Tobirama thinks that Dangerous at Letters Range is more comprehensive than they thought.

He shouldn’t care what the Uchiha obake thinks of him.

He shouldn’t feel the shame burning him even now.

Yet it’s more comfortable to focus on Sasuke’s outrage than on what would have happened if he hadn’t shown up.

_Children._

The elder of the two who’d climbed up after Sasuke’s clone had looked _so_ like Kawarama in the shape of their face and nose, with eyes that could have been his mother’s except for the darker shade of grey, so near to black.

_I almost killed Children._

He ducks into the small cave and presses himself against the rocks, out of view of the hawk that’s been overtly shadowing him for the past few hours. He can sense her circling above, but she doesn’t come closer, just maintains her watch. Good. Someone needs to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. Part of him wants to run back and scream at Sasuke until he explains. Why didn’t he use that sparkling blade when he had the chance? Why this cruel mercy and eyes that never swirled red, only accused him in charcoal grey the same shade as that child’s?

_Mother’s eyes._

_No,_ they were dark, Uchiha eyes and Uchiha hair.

 _"Maa, Senju-san, I’m not from around here,”_ the accented words echo in his head, and Tobirama denies the possibility of kinship even as he has to admit it exists. The Hatake are known for their lightning affinity- his little brother had zapped him often enough that the memory was unlikely to ever fade. And now the Only lightning-natured Uchiha he’s Ever met shows up in Hatake territory with Summons that the Uchiha have never used before. _“You’re jumping to conclusions, I haven’t claimed that name.”_

And those children. No, he needs more evidence than coincidence.

They were Uchiha, whatever other blood they might carry. That’s all his father would care about.

The mission that brought him to Frost country didn't have anything to do with the Uchiha. He’d been hired to retrieve a stolen book, requested specifically by their client to ensure it wasn’t a fake. And after finding two copies with covers made of the wrong wood and missing chapters, he could understand the paranoia. Locating and procuring the correct volume had taken more investigation and back tracking than he had anticipated, but he was within the allowed time frame for the mission when he’s noticed the Uchiha chakra signatures.

Father had added the mission to attack and kill any groups of Uchiha wandering far from the protection of their clan compound. It was _ordered._

But would father have given that order if he knew the group included tiny children?

Tobirama nicks his thumb on a tooth and flashes through hand signs, calling his Leopards to him, rather than think too hard on the answer to that question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sasuke: I'm going to stay in my healer lane and be subtle in my attempts to subvert history. And I am certainly not going to use shadow clone in front of Tobirama.  
> Also Sasuke: Yeeeeeet! What Would Naruto Do? What Would Yoshino Do?
> 
> Also, the Hat Explained at last. ^-^


	13. Fellow Travelers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travelers make their way home and new journeys are contemplated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost split this one, but decided to just keep it as is, so enjoy the monster chapter everyone.

“Explain how this takes less chakra. Leave more words in this time.”

Sasuke sighs at Oizuru throwing his own words back at him _again_ and declines to answer. He knows it’s dangerous to actually use the nature energy instead of just piggybacking off it, but he needs to practice in controlled circumstances so he doesn’t have to work it out in a desperate moment. Because he can feel it for himself now, can feel the power and connection it offers, and no amount of cautionary tales has stopped him from doing the stupid but necessary thing when it counts.

Above them, the clouds of chakra smoke finish rolling away to reveal Vinata-sama in her grandest form, even larger than Garuda’s multi-passenger size, and more majestic with her gold and onyx wings iridescent in the afternoon sunlight. But it’s the giant Lantern-fruit pavilion she’s carrying that required so much chakra that he had to play at a Sage. It’s bigger on the inside, and Vinata can shrink it and herself down and fly them home as fast as a stooping Peregrine. Which is still a couple hours, but not four or five.

Most of the other Uchiha are distracted by Vinata or like Madara engaged in keeping the children away from the area he claimed for summoning the queen by tossing them through the air, to their utter delight. So when Oizuru opens his mouth again Sasuke can tell him to fuck off without corrupting any tiny minds. He is tired of this excess worry already. He knows they mean well, but it grates to be _told_ that they’ll back him and then be scolded like an academy student for acting on his own initiative. That was Oizuru’s fault: he shared the Sharingan-crisp memory of the confrontation with Tobirama with the Outguard Mentor Katsukane, who shared it with Madara, who promptly had kittens.

Sasuke stands up and waves tiredly to Vinata, who obligingly bows down so he can hug her vastly oversized head and press his face against the softness of her feathers.

“Sasukeitou,” she breathes in, and he braces for more scolding but the sigh she lets out is only fond, “Come rest, I can feel your fatigue. Sannati-chan explained what is needed and the Sparrows have prepared for you and your kin.”

“Thank you, Vinata-oba.” Sasuke rests his head against hers for another moment before pulling back and starting toward the pavilion and a well earned nap. Oizuru walked himself over to Sasuke’s summoning spot, he can walk himself back or call one of the Outguard if he needs help.

* *

Tōnari checks a circle around herself on reflex but finds no threats in the shallow cave. So the distress rolling off her cub isn’t from any physical wounds- all the blood she can smell speckling his armor is from others. Kyōnari darts to the cave mouth to double check their surroundings, leaving her to ask, “Tobira-cub, what’s wrong?”

“I-” He shakes his head, “Father ordered an attack on a group of Uchiha. Half of them were children and I almost… I didn’t, but- _fuck_.”

Tōnari presses herself closer and lets him hold on until he gets his calm back. Kyōnari presses up on the other side, whispering about a Hawk perched far up the mountain, watching. The air coming in through the cave mouth is familiar- they haven’t yet left the home range of the Leopard summoning line of Hatake- if only she could convince her cub to be sensible and not return to the land of Fire and his terrible family.

“Tobira-cub, what do you need?”

He explains briefly his encounter with the Uchiha Hawk summoner and the children who resembled his mother and brother, finishing with, “Do the Hatake have hawk summons? I didn’t think anything of it when I met the Obake, but he called me Senju before I introduced myself, when most of the clan says I don’t look it- but if he knows other Hatake, if he’s half Hatake too, and those kids are like him- maybe he knew who I was because we’re family and I didn’t know. I didn’t know and he did and no wonder he won’t kill me when he could have.”

Tōnari decides to start with the most important thing: “We claimed you as kin, cub. You are Hatake if you choose it.” she waits for him to nod before she continues, “As to the Obake and the others, we won’t know until we get a chance to smell them, but it’s not impossible. Sometimes Hatake settle down to become villagers, sometimes their children marry outsiders.”

Kyōnari speaks up from the cub’s other side, “From the scent of this blood, you fought someone with some Hatake blood today.”

Tobira-cub’s face drains of color.

Tōnari butts her heads against his chin, “Cub, it wasn’t your fault. They must have smelled like Uchiha to you.”

“Sasuke said they were civilians. Probably visiting family, their family? Our family?!” it’s not a wail but his breathing is not steady or controlled as his mind and emotions run in faster circles, “But I found them, and I don’t know what half my family _smells like_ so I stabbed them and drowned them because Father said to! I thought I was better than that.”

Kyōnari drapes herself across the cub’s shoulders, ordering him to breath and overriding his self-directed cruelties until he slumps onto the floor of the cave and settles into the grounding exercise they forced into his skull when he was younger. Having to push Kyōnari’s weight up with each breath is a useful focusing tool, and eventually it is a smooth rise and fall rather than an ungainly trot. Kyōnari’s purring fills the small cave as Tobira-cub rolls over and rubs his face in her chest and lets himself weep. Tōnari joins her sister in squishing their cub into submission.

She wishes there was more they could do, but they aren’t fighters: they can’t kill Butsuma for his abuses, only charge him and the Senju clan an onerous fee in fish. Their cub needs to fight or leave for himself, but he won’t. Discovering that he killed distant kin has hurt him, and Tōnari adds that to Butsuma’s tally of wrongs along with the child killing. She might be able to arrange for Tobira to encounter a Hatake or two, but it will be better if he seeks them out for himself. The Hatake clan doesn’t have a lineage of Hawk summoners, but that question has also gotten lost in the panic and she won’t remind him: the more people outside his toxic family that her cub feels kinship with, the more likely he is to leave.

* *

As much as the size of the central garden and hot spring is not apparent from the outside of the giant lantern fruit pavilion, Madara is surprised by the sparrows lined up to greet the Uchiha with baskets of berries and nut cakes before leading them to rooms where they can rest for the trip.

“Where is my cousin Sasuke?” he asks the sparrow leading him and Katami-ba into the garden.

“Honored Summoner is resting. I can assist you with anything that is needed.”

Madara considers Aso’s sleepy contemplation of their surroundings. Nap time does seem well advised, and burying Sasuke in children is a tradition by this point. “Where is he sleeping?”

The hostess sparrow turns to face him and suddenly there are at least a dozen other birds looming out of the greenery in the garden, some with suspiciously sharp beaks, “Who are you and what do you want with Sasuke-denka?”

Aso shifts in Madara’s grasp, “Are we not allowed to see Sasuke-nii?”

“Sleeping is not very exciting, young one.”

Madara interjects, “It’s something of a habit to let children nap on him. I think they’ll all sleep better for it.”

One of the background birds trills a laugh, though it doesn’t distract Madara from the glint of sharpened feathers on the tips of her wings, “Maybe you _are_ a cousin. He sometimes calls us to sing lullabies.”

The first sparrow considers Madara and Katami, then nods, “Fine, come.” They turn and lead the Uchiha in a different direction. The sudden flock of other birds shadows them through the garden and up the curving ramp to a loft overlooking the garden.

Aside from the wide halls and doorways and a preference for perches over hand rails, the architecture of the place was not too different from some noble houses Madara has visited. The high sided nest, though lined with linen sheets and supplied with wildly varied styles of blankets, is clearly a bird’s best attempt to make something comfortable for a human to sleep in. Sasuke is curled up with his back to one of the edges, and Madara feels the worry from earlier dig deeper when he stirs and blinks blearily at them. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Katami says before he can do more than start to disengage from the blanket pile. “Aso-kun will sleep better with you, if you’re willing. And Kiso-chan?”

Sasuke nods between a huge yawn, and Aso wriggles free of Madara to climb into the nest. Katami takes a little longer to wrap one of the blankets around the toddler before tucking Kiso in next to the other two. Madara’s pretty sure that Sasuke’s not completely asleep, but he’s slumped back into lassitude with his eyes closed and chakra quiet, so it’s more a hunch than a certainty.

Madara sits on the edge of the nest to take off his sandals; Katami pats his shoulder in thanks and heads out to find the rest of her family. He doesn’t need a nap, but quiet hours he can just sit and think are rare enough that he’ll take this one rather than question the trading branch about the attack further. Several of the mob of songbirds settle around the room as he unbuttons his coat and gets comfortable. The song they sing to lull Aso to sleep is familiar, a trading branch lullaby he knows from his mother, and Madara wonders.

He accumulates a wide collection of random textiles over the next hour or so, “to make him more comfortable.” The song birds have gone from suspicious to solicitous now that Sasuke’s proven willing to sleep with him in the same room, and it’s almost too fun to see what they’ll ply him with next. After the first few blankets featured patterns he’d never encountered, he asked what else they have, and the parade of bizarre ahistorical wall hangings, bolts of kimono fabric in unlikely color combinations, felted mittens sized for giants and newborns, tree bark ponchos, and other strange and wonderful objects made their quiet way through the room for his inspection.

Madara abuses his Sharingan to memorize what he can, but he hopes that Kita will get a chance to see this bounty for herself. His betrothed too seldom gets to enjoy the whimsy her stories bring to others, and she would enjoy this.

“Have they brought out the cow print yet?” Sasuke asks, and Madara blinks, because he doesn’t remember anything featuring cows. Two of the sparrows giggle and immediately take off, so he supposes he’ll get to see soon enough.

Sasuke spends a few minutes tending to Kiso, changing the wriggly toddler with the ease and precision of practice, not just Sharingan copying.

When the birds come back with what looks like an arm guard, it’s not printed with cows, just some strange black and white cloud pattern. Madara gives Sasuke a questioning look.

Sasuke sets Kiso free of the blanket roll so he can toddle around the nest and look at the pretty cloth more closely. “The cows that look like this are rare and imported, but that’s not the story. The story is how a friend had half a wardrobe made out of that crappy cloth, and before his wedding to…” Sasuke considers, then continues with, “a certain volcanic lady who would be seeing to his wardrobe in the future, I was hired by another friend to help _be rid of it_. That is the last remaining bit. Momento Zoom Mori, Cow Print. You will not be missed.”

Madara doesn’t think the print is that offensive, though he can tell the cloth is a cheap cotton unsuited to hard wear, and not appropriate for someone marrying a Terumii. “Was it camouflage?”

“You might think that, and we did learn Hiding in the Mist from them,” the smile Sasuke bestows on the arm guard is fond, “but Za was the dramatic one. Ku was the sneaky one, and Ku wanted it _gone_ once they could afford better.”

“But they needed your help?”

“Not everyone has a knack for Genjutsu.” Sasuke shrugs one shoulder, but his tone is heavy, “You see me as a medic, but I’m not. I’m a generalist, I do a little bit of everything. Medical stuff is just what’s most needed with the feud that doesn’t stop: it’s not what I’m good at.”

Madara is entirely too familiar with the demands of the feud. “Is that why it tires you out?”

“The all purpose technique is yang-release and finicky. I can do it but it’s exhausting,” Sasuke shifts in what is obviously a back stretch, even obscured by the layers of blankets and Aso’s still dozing form clinging to his side, “I can’t wait for Yori to figure out how to do more with Yin release so we can save yang for emergencies.”

“What are you good at?” Madara asks, curious and fairly sure he’ll get an honest answer this time, since Sasuke is in a sharing mood.

Sasuke shakes his head. “I’m only _mostly_ certain your father won’t try to kill me in a fit of paranoia over something he doesn’t understand and can’t control. So I can only speculate about what I might say, if I dared Share with a Sharingan stronger than mine.”

Madara really wishes he could argue, but his father does _not_ take challenges to his authority well. He remembers what happened to his uncle Niniji when he was thirteen, not with Sharingan clarity, thank the kami, but more than well enough. “That’s… valid,” he agrees after a moment.

Something in his voice or contenance must give away how he feels despite the tight hold he keeps on his chakra because Sasuke’s entire blanket roll closes the distance, clinging Aso and all, so his cousin can wrap his arms around Madara’s waist in a sort of hug, resting against him in wordless comfort. The texture of the hair under Madara’s fingers as he runs his hands through the spikes is closer to his own despite Sasuke’s overall resemblance to Izuna. Madara misses his other little brothers- he still can’t imagine what possessed his father to execute his uncle when Niniji hadn’t killed anyone or provably damaged the clan’s position. Sasuke hasn’t done those things either, but Father could take any number of Sasuke’s actions as threats to his authority as Outguard Head, from his silence about a very potent summoning contract to his method of dealing with Tobirama. It’s not Homeguard’s _job_ to battle Senju in the field, but Father might decide not to care.

Madara looks up at the songbirds scattered around the room, resting but still alert. Every one of them was an intelligent Summons more than willing to help Sasuke fly free, and Garuda had mentioned at least a half dozen other hawks with capabilities on par with his own. Madara hopes his father will be wise enough to see the reasons for silence, because while Sasuke might choose not to make himself a kinslayer even in self defense, should he leave there isn’t anything they can do to stop him.

But that’s worrying about something unlikely to happen. This is not like Uncle Niniji. Yori and the healers have been quiet but not completely opaque about the new techniques; this rescue is too public and too successful for father to punish the main instigator. Especially given how persistently father’s inquired about Sasuke’s sensor training this last week. Father hadn’t come out and said he wanted hourly checks on the movements of the Senju top ten, but he may as well have. It wasn’t treason to go above and beyond what was asked. That was why Father liked Kita so much, after all. She thought of the next steps and took them while others were still stuck in the past.

No, Father couldn’t publicly object to this, even if he seethed over it.

“What might you be good at, if you could say?” Madara asks once he feels more grounded in the present.

“Hmm? Improvisation, herding geniuses, and bef-” Sasuke answers with the sing-song of practice, then seems to get lost in thought for a minute, as if the third item no longer applies.

Madara waits, fingers still combing through the spiky mess atop his cousin’s head.

“What’s your definition of good?”

“I think the question is your definition, not mine.” Madara gently slides a delicately beaded headdress out of Kiso’s view with his free hand.

That seems to stump Sasuke, but they have time.

Kiso doesn’t have many words, but he’s determined in his quest to gather the prettiest pieces for a nest within the nest. Kiso whines at a length of fabric that’s too heavy for his toddler arms to move, but Aso gets up and helps him with it before Madara can, and the nest project expands to include both of them. Sasuke lapses back into a heavy doze and remain contently unresponsive against Madara’s side, even when Aso pulls an unstuffed cushion cover from the pile and drapes it over his neck as a makeshift cape. Madara is implored to help with the bolt of heavy wool dyed in all the shades of a winter sunset, but before he can extract himself two of the songbirds swoop in, grip each end and move it like it doesn’t outweigh them a hundred fold.

When Aso praises them, one of them replies, “I'm on the Brute Squad!” in a way that sounds like a quote, but from something none of them are familiar with.

“You _are_ the brute squad,” Sasuke mutters and the birds all snicker or giggle before subsiding back into quiet.

Not long after that Oizuru is led in by a larger sparrow in a bright yellow haori carrying a tray of snacks and Sasuke levers himself up, though whether its for the food or Oizuru is unclear. “Sorry about earlier, Oizuru. I shouldn’t have cursed at you.”

The older healer shakes his head, coming to sit on the edge of the nest, “Better honest cussing than silence. I’m sorry, Sasuke.”

Sasuke’s expression is a mixed bag, but he’s clearly surprised to receive an apology in turn, “For what exactly?”

“I know you like to hold your cards close and I did not honor that. And then I pushed for more when my entire worry was that you were exhausting yourself,” Oizuru taps the side of his head, “For that I deserved what I got. I hope I haven’t lost explanation privileges entirely?”

Sasuke snorts, “I’m not going to explain Sage stuff to you except _Don’t, it can kill you.”_

Madara blinks. That explains some things while opening several other questions. But he’ll get more by staying out of this conversation for the moment.

“But it can’t kill you?” Oizuru asks.

This time the laugh is pained, “Oh Oizuru, don’t ask when there’s too much story to easily sum up. You won’t like any of it. Enough for now that I survived the learning.”

Madara is _going_ to get the story when there isn’t a four year old in the room; from the look in Oizuru’s eye he has the same thought. “Later then.”

* * *

“The other one was only the size of a house!” Izuna's been fighting the rumor of Madara being kidnapped by a summons the size of the Outguard Hall since his brother left.

The Hawk in the largest training field with her strange load is easily _taller_ than the Outguard Hall and the lantern fruit in her claws the size of a bathhouse. Worse, she started out looking like a shinier version of one of Madara’s normal birds before she swelled to monstrous size. _It’s like the world conspires to do this._

Sukeari rests a reassuring hand on his back, muttering a reminder to breathe. Izuna's breathing fine! He might need fire.

Father comes out of the Outguard Hall to stand on Izuna’s other side and he shuts his mouth. His breathing slows but he's not calm.

*

Tsuyoshi follows Tajima out of the Outguard Hall and tries not the grimace at the tension that hangs between his brother-in-law and nephew. Sukeari’s hand moves from Izuna’s back to his shoulder as Izuna reports the bare facts of the hawk’s arrival and sudden increase in size along with the fruit-building.

Tajima growls and Izuna’s contained not-wince is visible even from the back.

None of Tajima’s irritation is Izuna’s fault, and none of his efforts to quell the waves of speculation racing through the Outguard could soothe his father, even if they’d been successful.

Too many surprises piled together always makes Tajima grumpy, and this stack had been handed over by the new relative Tajima was so proud of finally putting into a mental box. Of course no bird summoner with half a brain would let slip that fact to someone in the habit of locking them up. Not until they had the social leverage to make sure it never happens again. _Birds do not like boxes or cages, Tajima._

The crowd of lingering Outguard parts to allow the Head and his second son pass closer to the looming Summon and the strange orange pavilion in its claws. Sukeari and Tsuyoshi keep pace with them, though Sukeari is far closer, an emotional support where Tsuyoshi intends to play the voice of reason.

When the door of the giant lantern pavilion opens the first person out is Hisaie, who theatrically staggers two steps to the left and drops to kiss the ground. “I don’t care: I hate flying.”

The laughter that ripples through the gathered warriors and trainees is as much relief as mirth at Hisaie’s antics.

Before Tajima can rip into him, Kenashi of the Trading Branch steps out. Then his daughter Katami, carrying a fussy toddler. Then the doors open wider and a handful of shouting children chased by a flock of sparrows spill out, followed by a pair of teens. Tsuyoshi only knows Sasuke is one by the subdued crackle of his chakra, his hair is confined by beadwork in at least nine shades of red. It’s the taller boy in a coat unmarked by an Uchiwa who does the yelling for the thieves to come back with their ill gotten gains, and Tsuyoshi almost doesn’t recognize Tsukeo- his second cousin on his mother’s side has put on several inches in the last year. The children have the cover of the crowd of Outguard by now, and until the entertainment value falls below the annoyance of being used as a prop all the gathered might of the Uchiha will not be any help.

Tajima is holding back any urge to yell for order. Because this is most of the Trading Branch group assigned to Lightning, who he had already written off entirely. Tsuyoshi hadn’t argued optimism while they waited for word of the fate of Tajima’s brother-in-law and other kin to his dead wife, but as he edges closer to look Tsuyoshi gets a glimpse of the rarest of Tajima’s expressions: relief.

Next to him, Izuna’s tension fades into a similar expression until one of the children pauses long enough to stare up at him in confusion.

“Aso-kun? Are you okay?”

The child responds by kicking Izuna in the shin with a completely solemn expression. When Izuna winces and splutters Aso nods and runs off without explanation.

Tajima raises an eyebrow at his son, but Izuna huffs and pointedly turns his attention back to the pavilion.

Another surge of song birds follow the children out. This wave is larger birds and absconding with at least two entire bolts of cloth and several smaller garments, so even if the children are caught the repatriation of goods may take some time.

Madara and Katsukane emerge after the clothier birds with the rest of their squad, the four of them carrying a simple cot with a third teen member of the trading branch in a bloodstained coat sulking atop it. A moment later Oizuru and Ryu of the trading branch come out and Ryu pulls the doors shut with a thud worthy of a cavern, not a mere pavilion.

Tsuyoshi counts: five Outguard, two Healers, and ten total Trading Branch survivors. Three from the trading branch unaccounted for, most likely dead if Madara and his squad returned rather than pursuing the attackers. It’s a loss that will be mourned, yet even he feels off balance at a lighter blow than expected.

“Are you alright? Come inside so you can rest and we can speak,” Tajima softens his usual demand for a report when addressing Kenashi, who is after all his eldest brother in law.

Kenashi holds up his hand for patience, his voice rough but firm, “In a moment.”

The songbird sitting on the old man’s shoulder is practically invisible under his hair until it opens its scarlet mouth and lets out a piercing whistle. The children stop their game and gather around him while the rest of the Trading Branch all turn to attend his instructions. “We all need to thank our hosts.”

Tajima waits with ill-grace as Aso-kun decelerates from tag into a meltdown and attaches himself to Izuna’s leg until Tsukeo comes to collect him, giving the adults in the caravan a moment to huddle together before agreeing on what to give and the birds a chance to organize themselves. Sasuke ends up a sideshow: the march of comically large or shiny objects carried by tiny birds to be shoved into the umbrella bag or pointed back into the pavilion- one of the bolts of cloth goes through the line three times before Sasuke relents and puts it in the bag.

The Queen Summon accepts the coil of wire on the behalf of the flock with gracious words, but the excitement of the rows of smaller birds arrayed around her cannot be contained past the moment of formality. Tsuyoshi doesn’t need to know much about hawks to recognize laughter when half the smaller birds swarm around Sasuke, calling out to their ‘Boss’ offers and demands for more of the _good_ wire.

It’s hard to tell from this distance, but Tsuyoshi thinks his nephew is smiling as he calls up the whirls of silvery chakra to dismiss the Queen and the pavilion. He’s _sure_ of it when the last whirl sends Sasuke vanishing further into the compound in a cloud of birds and loose feathers.

It takes Tsuyoshi another blink and Sukeari’s cut-off curse to realize that Izuna has also vanished. Tajima looks amused and annoyed at the disappearance, but mostly resigned to get his report from actual members of the Outguard.

*

Izuna drinks the tea when Sasuke’s magic rock gets done making it. It’s not sencha but he has no actual complaints about the quality. He’s too tired to complain about or question the process.

The house is quiet. Kita is out, but she’ll be back soon to start dinner, since Midori isn’t around either. Izuna turns on his cushion to stare out at the garden, trying to put away the worries of the day like the exercises had talked about, but only partially succeeding. He takes another sip. The tea grounds him, lets him focus on the present moment.

“Good work,” he mutters when Sasuke moves to sit with the pot between them. Izuna doesn’t need the details of the attack to count heads and morale of the survivors.

“Thanks.”

* * *

“Look,” Sasuke slides his knife through another fish side, gaining the meat of the fillet and leaving the bones and connective tissue for the soup pot he brought down to the river, “it's not just specific recipes it's _attitude.”_

Izuna looks up from the borrowed novel he’s been slowly reading since they came down to the river, “I don't believe you. Those dumplings were too recognizable.”

Sasuke pulls another fish from the trap, “Your loss- I'm changing this from a pork and chicken dish to all fish but it would still be considered a variation.”

Yesterday Kita had shown up with senbei and expectations of chaos, so when she found them drinking tea and discussing novel genres like old men, she laughed. Then passed along Yori’s sentence of three days vacation. In return he kept his report short, mostly clarifying truth from rumor and asking for advice on the best method to implement some version of the skin breathing technique as emergency medical equipment for basically everyone. Kita said she would think about it and let him know if she came up with any ideas, so he’ll ask again in a few days.

This is his first day off and so far it’s actually been pretty relaxing despite Izuna deciding to tag along. Sasuke caught his sealing journal up to date and Izuna started _Blessed Red Beetle & Curious Cat _while they waited for fish. He’s learned that neither of Tajima’s sons actually want to report bad news, so as long as he acts like the fountain pen is nothing of note Izuna has plausible deniability and he can endure the eyebrowing.

Several cats show up for the fish heads and guts, and he smiles- there will be fresh gossip later.

Izuna carries one of the pots for him; a clever ploy to avoid getting handed any other chores on their way back that works like a charm. Kita is in the main room working on her patchwork, Benten is at her Yatagarasu lessons, and Tajima is still at the Outguard Hall, so the house is peaceful as they all settle in.

Sasuke takes a moment to mentally review the recipe he wants to use and there is one problem- to make the soup the slow way will take a couple days. He’s not that patient. He finds the thickest pot with the best lid and transfers the fish bones, seaweed, aromatics, spices, and Agar into it.

Sasuke gets out a fresh sheet of paper and some good ink.

Chouji explained how the pressure cooker worked as he loaded it up, and Sasuke is rather more versed in the physics of gases, boiling points, metal fatigue, and the preconditions for accidental explosions than your average ninja or home cook thanks to his background in team Seven and team Red. He can use a Boiling Stone to keep the whole thing at temperature, no matter how high the boiling point goes, so he doesn’t need the Iori fire or the woodstove in the kitchen.

“I’m going to take this outside; it’s a pressure cooker for the moment,” Sasuke says after the ink from the seal sinks into the metal and slithers around the join between pot and lid like Shikako’s shadows, creating a firm seal- the venting will be done by the little fan seal controlled by the pressure gauge which linked to the metal stress sensor so the whole thing will vent itself if the metal starts to give. He thinks he can improve on the elegance of the art, but the basic design comes together in his mind with ease.

Kita smiles at him over a sleeve pattern, “Do keep an eye on it.”

“Of course, Kita-san,” He makes a defensive stone bulwark for the pot to live in at the end of the engawa so he can keep watch on it but it won’t hurt anyone if the Seal and iron both fail. Then he brings the rest of his ingredients out to continue the prep process.

Izuna wanders out after him but their conversation is pretty minimal until a few hours later when the pot starts chiming. Sasuke taps the tag to begin the venting sequence and waits. Soon he’s able to remove the lid and check the contents- the soup stock is as thick as gravy, which is exactly right. He can turn up one of the cold boxes to flash freeze cubes of it so they melt when steamed, for dumplings that don’t instantly fall apart when picked up.

Izuna is staring over his shoulder in shock, “Did you just use space-time fuuinjutstu on the inside of a _pot?”_

Sasuke blinks at that idea, “No? This is normal physics,” He opens his mouth to explain and decides to save it for an appreciative audience, “I could do the same thing without a seal but it would be riskier and more difficult. So I made a seal to do it.”

That was the wrong thing to say, though Sasuke isn’t sure why. Izuna marches over to the open door and calls inside, “Kita-chan, did you know?” Sasuke follows after him, curious.

Kita’s serene smile doesn’t change as she tilts her head at them. That’s answer enough for Izuna, though Sasuke is still confused. Izuna throws his hands up and turns to walk back to where he left his book, but Sasuke is in the way.

“What?” Sasuke isn’t sure what the problem is, “It’s a seal for cooking faster, it’s personal use. Sannosawa-sensei didn’t say anything about having to get those approved before I test them, only if I want to distribute them.”

“How long have you been testing seals?” Izuna asks instead of answering.

“Since my first lesson with Sannosawa after I got let out of house arrest. The only one that’s in distribution so far is the sanitizing seal for the healer’s smock pockets.”

Izuna drags a hand down the side of his face, “Two seal masters in the house. I’m doomed.”

“Kita-san is a Master of course, but I’m no-”

Izuna gets in his face and cuts him off, “Journeymen copy, Masters create. Did you not just draw up a brand new seal because you wanted to _cook soup faster?_ That is not the attitude of a journeyman, you self-deprecating twit.”

Sasuke can feel the part of himself that has repeatedly argued with Shikako about her own status as a Seal Master shrink under Izuna’s glare. If Kako won’t take the title, how can he possibly?

 _Maybe she’s a self-deprecating twit, too._ That inner voice sounds like Zabuza, and Sasuke kind of has to agree.

Still, he’s hardly going to give in to Izuna that easily, “Claiming to be a seal master is a good way to get yourself targeted for kidnapping or death, and I already have enough of that.”

“Maybe for clanless wanderers, but you’re not clanless anymore.”

Sasuke doesn’t have an answer that isn’t time-travel related, so he doesn’t: he just kind of stares at Izuna and Kita while trying not to drop the soup pot turned fuuinjutsu experiment, his brain cell or his feelings. It’s still strange to think of the clan as _his_ because he won’t be allowed to keep them. It’s going to hurt so bad all over again when he has to leave.

He redirects his thoughts to Izuna’s other point. At his first calligraphy lesson he looked at the cold box Sannosawa was teaching the others to copy and it just clicked. Not just that seal, but the entire style. Symbolic, poetic, metaphorical- it made sense to him in a way that none of the other styles in Shikako and Tenten’s book and recorded lectures ever had. And the other students, journeymen he supposes, hadn’t made the same leap. They were always eager to hear about what he was working on when he had time to attend, but they worked on what Sannosawa set them. _Not just because they’re younger than me._

Sasuke sets the pot down and walks back to the end of the engawa for a clean knife. He visualizes the blood clotting seal before he makes the cut, and when he touches the seal to his arm the wound scabs over instantly. Of course it was a shallow cut, he’ll need to test it on larger cuts later.

Next, throwing… _Cold box._ He forms the intention of the seal in his mind and flicks his fingers toward’s Izuna’s shirt. A splattering of chakra forms the image of a snowflake a bit above his roommate’s floating rib and he squawks.

“What are you doing?” Izuna grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it around so he can see the seal. “Icing me?”

“What do you feel?” Sasuke asks as he walks back over.

Izuna scowls, then his face clears, “A breeze, like my shirts trying to cool me off.”

“Your shirt’s not a box, so I’m pretty sure it won’t actually freeze you as it fights the whole of the outdoors or the room, but if it gets too cold tell me and I’ll cancel it.”

Kita sholds up her sleeve, laughter in her tone, “I volunteer to test that as well, Sasuke-san.”

He grins and shoots the seal across the space with an effort of will. This will take some practice to master but he can fit it around other things. The dumplings aren’t going to wrap themselves.

* * *

The report Tobirama makes to his father about his attack on the Uchiha is incredibly tense, even by their standards. “A partial success, but most of the group survived. The Uchiha have a new Summoner with unusual abilities. I was able to inflict enough casualties that they did not have the resources to pursue, given my terrain advantage.” It’s easy to let the bitterness of that lie cover up the other emotions still simmering in his gut. Twice now he’s lived by the mercy of the obake and it _will not_ sit right until he can repay the debt. “I need some time to refine my Sensing to assure we aren’t walking into ambushes. I recommend we be wary of supposedly isolated groups of Uchiha for now, Father.”

Butsuma is displeased, but dismisses Tobirama to file his report in the small adjoining office with orders to figure it out.

Passing through the doorway is like walking into the mouth of the ice caves to the northwest where he sometimes goes to summon his leopards in summer- not as cold as the true winter deeper in, but refreshingly cool in the heat of high summer.

Maki is sitting at one of the desks writing out a mission report while a small but steady circulation of fire chakra pulls heat out of the air and traps it in an acorn from one of his brother’s trees. He’s glad to see that she’s returned from her mission in Wind country in good spirits, he could use a distraction.

“What are you doing?” he asks as he walks closer, examining the visible parts of the jutsu more closely. The chakra is being stored in a tight spiral and he wonders what the purpose is.

Maki doesn’t try to dissemble and claim to be writing a report, so she must be proud of this new innovation. Instead she grins and reaches into a pocket to reveal several more acorns alive with contained chakra, “Storing Heat for later like an arsonist squirrel.”

“Why?” he takes one of the completed acorns from her and turns it over in his hands. There’s a tiny symbol for Heat carved into the side that’s anchoring the effect, but that’s all. It’s not classical fuuinjutsu, but the analytical part of his brain is having a hard time wrapping around mixing Fuuin and ninjutsu this way.

“After I delivered the first message one of the Wind Daimyo’s ministers hired me as a neutral messenger for two more deliveries and responses. I had a lot of time to think about heat and cooling off while I tried not to cook,” Maki motions at the report she’s writing from a series of shorthand notes scratched into her shoulder armor. Tobirama assumes they’re entirely mnemonic devices because they look like nonsense combinations of katakana and he doubts they feel any different. He does wish she’d stop using her armor as a note-taking device, if she ever has to fight the Deathblow it’ll be gone in an instant. “I just got back last night, actually. Have you heard?”

Tobirama just got back himself, so he shakes his head.

“The Dead Wastes are gone. There’s an oasis now,” She runs a finger over one of her notes, “One rumor claimed ‘trees ten times the height of a man, grown overnight by whatever did it.’ So of course I took a little detour on my way back from the last delivery. The rumors exaggerate: the tallest tree was only 40 feet, but there were at least seventy of them. Tobirama, the trees all have chakra in them, like Hashirama’s trees. But not his chakra, it didn’t feel like a person. I can’t- it felt like one of Touka’s Genjutsu that messes with your sense of space… it was vast, but inside a tree.” Maki trails off, lost in memory.

Tobirama sits in the other chair at the desk, pulling out the materials for his own report and waiting for her to get back from the mental tangent. Eventually she does, sketching out a rough map of the oasis on her palm. He can tell that the description must be from the mnemonic, because his father would never accept such flowery language in a report.

“The trees are scattered around a little spring-fed lake with wildflowers spilling over the surrounding hills like petals from a bridal crown. Still hot but not life-sucking in the shade. The flowers all had chakra in them too, but whispers. I thought about taking one of the tree branches, but it felt like stealing. The flowers were free, though, so long as I wasn’t greedy.”

She carefully removes it from the scroll case, but the bloom and thin leafed stalk don’t look dessicated from their travels. The flower itself is an uncommon shape with five lopsided petals striped in white and dark gold around a scarlet core. Tobirama can sense the faint traces of chakra in it. Once he focuses past the fire chakra in the air.

“It still has that scent.” Maki pushes the out of season bloom toward him.

Tobirama lifts the flower to his nose and inhales.

_Stars shining down, stars looking up. Life rising from dead and barren places. Forgotten seeds germinating and flourishing with new breath. Old grief. Hope like the air after a storm._

Tobirama pulls the flower away from his face but doesn’t let go, “Does it have a name? The oasis, I mean. I know this is called a Tanuki Claw.”

Maki’s expression gets complicated, “The nomads are calling it The Garden. I think it’s more than that, something religious. But I’m an outsider, they weren’t sharing and I don’t blame them.”

Tobirama nods, side-eyeing the flower like it might try to share more if he gives it too much attention. But he is curious. Whatever grew the trees and flowers left a massive emotional imprint on them if it managed to linger not just in the living plant, but past picking and transport to another country.

Before he can decide whether to commit more questionable acts of stopping to smell the flower, the door to the room opens again and Mito steps inside.

“Oh, that’s interesting.” His brother’s betrothed must mean the difference in air temperature, because she stops to bask before she approaches the desk. She’s dressed in an embroidered red silk Qipao and dark trousers calculated for both elegance and practical movement. Her hair is still up and contained with the deadly hairsticks, though. Tobirama thinks that there’s a pattern to that, but the main variable is how much control Butsuma has over his temper on any given day.

“Good afternoon, Mito-san,” He greets her, “Have you met Maki-chan, my second?”

He can feel the intensity of the looks from both women at the informal introduction, but he’s tired and still out of sorts and will just have to beg forgiveness later if he offended them.

“I don’t think so. It’s nice to meet you, Maki-san,” Mito inclines her head.

“Your reputation precedes you, Mito-san,” Maki gives a deeper seated bow from her chair, then jabs her elbow into his side, “And don’t listen to this idiot, he’s the only leader on our squad.”

 _Oh, that’s right._ The deal Tobirama has with Maki is that she’ll act as his second in command so long as he didn’t try to make it official or otherwise draw attention to her. It had taken him several frustrating weeks to realize why she refused to step up officially, always pretending like she wasn’t taking command during their group sparring matches.

But the scuffle between Shurou and Maki over even the informal position and Maki’s furious speech to the others about what they could and couldn’t expect from her had put it into perspective. _‘I have no pride, I ate the last of it the winter I turned thirteen. I don’t want to rise any more than I want to sink. I want to live. I want you all to live, even if it means swallowing your pride. If that bothers you, then let's have it out right now, because I’m not doing this unless everyone accepts it.’_

Shurou had tried again, which surprised Tobirama. Shurou had ended up on his back in the dust, again, which surprised him even more. Maki is clever, but small and not that good with a sword. She was on this squad for the breadth of her ninjutsu abilities, the better to counter any clever gambits the Uchiha may try. Her ability to play taijutsu mind games and kick like a cart horse should not be underestimated, if Shurou’s final impact crater was any indication. The joy and assurance that comes over some warriors after a sound defeat by a superior is hard to explain, but Shurou had not just fallen in line after that, but offered to help Maki improve her swordwork.

“I’m sure it is as you say, Maki-san.” Mito’s not quite laugh brings him back to the present. “But I haven’t seen these before, what have you come up with now, little brother?”

She’s motioning at the slow spinning acorn still dutifully storing heat from the room, not quite touching it or the others sitting in a pile next to Maki’s ink bottle, despite the curious twitch in her fingers.

“Uh-” he glances at Maki, who isn’t looking at him and gives no clue to her thoughts as she watches Mito.

“Sunami-obaa said you were studying the basics with her,” Mito muses, “but of course she wouldn’t want to spoil a discussion of the specifics. If you’re willing to discuss the principles of this, of course? I’m curious about the coil’s structure. Perhaps over dinner, Hashirama-kun has missed you and it would be nice to have more varied talk at the table.”

Tobirama nudges Maki with his elbow and she visibly braces herself before sacrificing him to the roasting racks of truth, “Ah, I’m sorry, Mito-san. That’s not Tobirama’s design, it’s mine. I’m sure he could take a try at explaining it, but it would just be a well educated guess.”

Mito raises an eyebrow as she looks between them, her smile widening into something truly predatory, “I see. Then I must invite you both to dinner for a proper discussion. I didn’t know you have another Fuuinjutsu user on your squad-”

Maki’s chair topples backward as she tries to run away from whatever realization just struck her hard enough to make her chakra shudder and draw up in a defensive shell, but Mito’s chakra-chain catches her before she can do more than open the door out.

“Oh, I must insist, Maki-san. This is a very interesting application of vernacular _fuuinjutsu_. That you have created with so little training.”

“Can we go back to you thinking they’re Tobirama’s design? I’m comfortable with that.”

Mito cackles, drawing Maki close enough to see how pleased she is while keeping her inverted and well away from any source of traction, “No.”

“It’ll go easier for you if you just accept the dinner invitation,” Tobirama advises his squadmate.

Maki glares at them both, “Do I get to walk there?”

“If you come quietly,” Mito allows and Maki slumps in defeat and agreement.

* *

“I’ve been thinking about your question from last night,” Father says after the initial dumpling grab falls into happy chewing and Izuna can feel Madara’s chakra tense next to him even as Sasuke’s presence on his other side settles into alert calm.

Last night during dinner Sasuke asked, “How many trading branch groups will go out after festival, with the Senju targeting them?" but subsided with the stupid questions when Father glowered into his soup. The Trading branch has to go out, they have obligations. And of course the Senju would attack any Uchiha they saw, they’e all murderous monsters. The Outguard knows that and you’d think that Sasuke would have picked that up working in the Healing Hall.

“Have you run the numbers on the Senju’s seige, then?” Sasuke asks once he finishes chewing and swallowing.

“Seige?” Madara blurts out, then pauses like he does when recalculating. Izuna blinks. The Senju haven’t been holding a seige… have they?

Father’s expression is not as obvious, but Izuna is familiar with the sharp look he gives their cousin even if he manages to soften the demand into a request in deference to Kita’s primacy, “Please explain your thoughts.”

“We’re in a war. The Senju are ambushing any Uchiha they find outside the Outguard’s ability to respond. Most of the returning mission squads can escape, but the Trading branch can’t because they lack heavy combatants and are often family groups defending children. But maintaining trade is important for both finance and information, vital to the clan’s success. So it is both a moral and military priority for us to keep the traders safe, and very useful to the Senju to destroy them, even if they don’t realize what they are doing because their collective ability to tell us apart is pathetic,” Sasuke rattles this off like it’s written on a sheet behind Father’s head, expression turning grumpy, “It’s been obvious to me since I arrived and Tobirama led a squad out to try to kill us that this was a de-facto attempt at seige. But if this was Feud As Normal there wouldn’t be a Trading Branch _left_ so it must be new. Thus my question, Tajima-sama.”

Izuna is impressed with Sasuke’s bravery, if not his sense, at the implied _‘Are you going to dismiss me again or are we going to have a proper discussion about how to respond?’_ layered into his last sentence.

Father doesn’t answer immediately. After eating another bite of dumpling he says, “That is an alternative perspective I hadn’t considered. Well reasoned.”

Madara almost chokes on a pickle and has to cough into his elbow. Kita reaches over to pat his back, though not hard enough to help in Izuna’s opinion.

“Normally the trading branch relies on a certain level of anonymity when far from our lands, and it would be difficult for the Senju to tell us from anyone else with a fire nature,” Father continues, “but Butsuma has that blasted sensor brat.”

“Tobirama’s range is entirely unfair,” Sasuke agrees like he didn’t twice play hide and seek with the Demon at both extremes of impossible range. Izuna hasn’t gotten all the details out of Madara, but there’s so much implication in ‘ _I ran him off with a scold’_ that Izuna is content to let it lie for now.

Father nods, his gaze drifting from Sasuke to Kita and back, “Is there anything you can do to hide them?”

Kita pauses with her tea cup halfway to her mouth and says, “Who do you mean, Tajima-sama?”

“Either of you, or both,” Father says, “I would prefer something like the misdirection of the boar illusion, rather than a reprise of yesterday, but I’m no seal master. Consult with the caravan masters as needed, they may have ideas.”

Sasuke and Kita exchange a look that Izuna finds concerning before answering together, “We’ll work on it.”

* *

Normally when Izuna wakes up in a foul mood, Sasuke steers clear. But he’s supposed to be on vacation, so he’s a little sloppy watching for cues. He doesn’t notice the signs until they’re both getting dressed on either side of the room dividers. Sasuke asks about his plans for the day.

Izuna glares daggers, “The Funeral for my cousin who you didn’t save, hero.”

Sasuke winces, remembering the short struggle to keep Uchiha Kitami from slipping away. Her coat had sopped up most of the blood, but when he tried to apply pressure to her chest wound it _squelched._ His assurances that she and her children were safe had been like permission for the last stubborn dregs of willpower holding her to life to let go. She’d focused on him, something like recognition in her eyes right before she passed. Sasuke wants to assume she mistook him for Izuna, but since he felt her soul move out of reach he’s also aware that might be a comforting lie. “I tried. We tried, Izuna, but she was too far gone.”

“Maybe if you’d taken more people with you,” Izuna says, voice deceptively soft, “Maybe if you’d taught more people your miraculous jutsu rather than hording it for yourself. Maybe if you didn’t keep everything secret until you have a chance for a dramatic reveal, more people would be alive! I’m not fooled by your humble act anymore, you selfish bastard.”

Part of Sasuke wants to argue Izuna’s points, but he knows if he engages he won’t be able to hold his composure. “I can’t deal with you when you get like this. Talk to me when you’re not moon-cruel.” He grabs his coat and bag and heads for the door to the main room, but Izuna gets in the way.

“No, no running off or replacing yourself with a leaf. You just happen to have a summoning contract that can send you to where the White Demon is, and you can happen to ‘run him off’ and save _most_ of a group of trading branch- but not all, because it wouldn’t look right if you got there before he did some damage, killed a few people for verisimilitude. Just like you happened to save the group you showed up with by hiding them from him, somehow.”

Sasuke almost can’t believe what he’s hearing, but his brain shuffles forward the blank face he learned to wear to council meetings as Tsunade’s guard while his heart clenches and he says, “Your inability to recognise the truth does not make it less true. Now get out of my way.”

“You gonna make me?” Izuna asks, squaring his shoulders.

The shoji behind him slides open, revealing Madara in full scowl, “Izuna!”

Izuna sets his jaw, “Oniisan, I’ll just be a moment.”

Sasuke steps to the side and out of the tiny bit of common space in their room. Madara grabs Izuna like the misbehaving brat he is and wrestles him to the floor. Izuna getting sat on would almost be funny, if it weren’t basic behavior correction for a nineteen year old mangekyo wielding badass with trauma that made him randomly cruel.

 _We all have our baggage._ Sasuke runs his fingers over the three central figures of his coat lining before pulling it on, though the chill he feels is entirely mental.

Breakfast is a quiet affair, and Sasuke excuses himself as soon as he’s able. He wasn’t invited to the funeral for the three dead trading branch members and he doesn’t want to go. He didn’t know them except for moments while they were dying and he can’t imagine that his presence will be any use to those in attendance. He heads out of the inner residence rings, towards the farmers fields, letting his feet carry him away.

He’s not surprised to find himself at Haruto’s farm, though he hesitates to interrupt when he senses that Haruto has visitors. He’s aware of the tears slowly scoring tracks down his face as fear of judgement slows his steps. Izuna was _wrong_ but he came close to a few truths. Sasuke is hiding and withholding things, not for the drama but because he has to. He can’t tell them he’s a time traveler or he’ll lose all control over his life, and he just got to a place where he felt like he could kick back in the scrum between Tajima and Kita and the Feud’s demands.

Maybe he doesn’t really deserve Izuna’s trust in particular, but it still hurts. He couldn’t save everyone, but no one else was saving them. How is that fair? And there’s a yawning gap between letting someone live and collusion. Sasuke can feel the shift in his own mood, the hurt transforming into defiance. Izuna thinks he’s hiding things? Fine, he needs better things to hide.

The final item on his list of talents, the one he didn’t tell Madara, is _Befriending Enemies._

But first he’s going to get a hug from Haruto and dare anyone to say anything.

* *

The ironic thing is that of all the Senju houses Sasuke has infiltrated so far, he likes Tobirama's best. It’s not very big, but the pale wooden floors, plain paneled walls, and lightly battered shelves of books and scrolls in the main living area remind him of his own apartment. Tobirama even has a few oversized cushions for sitting and reading, all covered in a residual layer of light colored fur. _Cats?_

The walls are decorated sparsely but tastefully with ink paintings and spare weapons and strike Sasuke as restful after weeks bouncing between the vividly painted clan hall and the stark newness of the healers. The full height table with three chairs almost begs for him to sit and dangle his legs from it, but he restrains himself. He’s not a kid playing in his father’s office.

There are three closed doors leading off of the main room, which he assumes to be an office, sleeping quarters, and a private bath- his target and unwitting host is in his office and not bothering to hide his frustration, so Sasuke’s not in a great rush to announce himself.

The door to Tobirama’s kitchen is open and he can see that the wood stove is standing height. He feels a small spike of envy. He didn’t know he would miss being able to stand at a chopping board until he met the traditional kneeling height kitchen of the Uchiha Clan hall. It’s disconcerting to realize how much of his childhood features Senju architecture- the Shrine hadn’t been, and his family’s house had been something of a hybrid in style, but his father’s work desk was a Hashirama-wood heirloom behemoth, nothing like the kneeling height folding desk Tajima uses for his paperwork. He doesn’t want to think about that. There’s more he can investigate without moving anything.

Sasuke takes a careful sniff of the air: Tobirama or someone has been cleaning and mostly he can smell soap and wood polish. He steps carefully until he can squat next to the floor cushions and their furry layer, then brings to mind all the training Kakashi tried to pound into his head about Memorizing scents and sniffs again, this time with twisting his perception to merge scent and sight

 _Some sort of Biggish Cat. Not house cats._ That is not very precise, but he commits it to Memory as a pattern of colors that other people can’t see- and that had been a wild conversation with Kakashi when he was thirteen, about the ‘extra’ colors that the Sharingan granted him, but the Uchiha didn’t find remarkable. Kakashi had eye-smiled and said, “You know a lot of critters don’t see in the same spectrum as humans.” He’d dropped the comparison when Sasuke had asked what that said about his crowd of squealing admirers. He swipes up a bit of the fur to test the texture and it doesn’t really help. He can rule out pumas and sand cats. _Not Bakeneko, either. Do Tigers come in pale?_

He’s still hunkered there, sniffing at the reading cushions like a confused Inuzuka with a headcold when he senses Tobirama coming in from one of the other rooms and looks up.

It takes a moment for the reality of the situation sinks in. Sasuke would guess Tobirama doesn’t suffer silent house invasion much, or there would have been better security.

"Why are you here?" Its part accusation, part curiosity that even irritation and pain can't fully suppress.

"It came to me that I was less kind than I might have been last time we spoke," Sasuke begins and the incredulous look on Tobirama's face gives him the will to continue, "so I hoped to try again." He stands up, because he’s already a little shorter and staying at knee level feels wrong for this conversation.

"Kindness? Kindness?!" The anger is all twisted up with self loathing and anxiety writhing under the surface of Tobirama’s hard bitten control. "I was killing your clansmen, why would you show me kindness, obake?"

"Because," Sasuke insists, "whatever civilizing influences and opportunities I lacked because of it, I long had a freedom to choose which authority I will bow to. A choice that I took for granted until I found myself in these ancestral feuding grounds and had to accommodate myself to the feud, which is the least kind authority I have known and the hardest to evade, for it has a hundred faces, not all of them obvious."

It’s not quite a snarl, but the display of teeth is as impressive as an Inuzuka, “I don’t need your pity!”

“I’m not offering it!” Sasuke snaps back, “You are the furthest thing from a pitiable person, Senju Tobirama. Don’t think you’ll ever get it from me.”

“Good!”

Sasuke resists the urge to throw himself at the man in an attempt to pin him to the floor, Nara-style. The tone is _so_ like Shikako when she thinks she’s won a point. Instead he pinches the bridge of his nose, “Are you done?”

“You’re the one who invaded my house in my clan’s compound, youkai-teme.”

“Hn,” Sasuke tilts his head in acknowledgement, as unrepentant as any cat.

Which is how he ends up in a staredown when he came over specifically to play nice. _Wonderful._ Sasuke gives Tobirama the slow blink and relaxed posture he might to any of the mid-rank cats when in their territory and is gratified when the slowly building aggression between them eases. _Yes, this is your territory. No, I’m not deferring to you otherwise._

Tobirama returns the blink eventually, secure in his territory if not in much else.

Sasuke makes a mental note to bring fresh fish next time, as food covers a multitude of sins and the Senju compound is notably missing both river access and fish ponds.

He waits another breath and then returns to his plan, “It wasn’t fair to expect you to prioritize improving your sensing skills since spring on my say so.”

“Is that what you meant by calling me a bandit?” Tobirama raises an eyebrow, though it’s twitching with repressed irritation even now. “Before confirming yourself a childish youkai, of course.”

“Apparently it was too nuanced a message for your failing ears, old man,” Sasuke doesn’t bother to hide his own snark.

“I was a little distracted rescuing my squad.”

“Oh? But if you were rescuing your squad, and I was rescuing my merchant kin, then who was the villain?” Sasuke throws his hands in the air. “No one! Will you listen for a minute-”

“No,” Tobirama doesn’t smirk but it’s a close cousin, “My ears, you see.”

Sasuke tilts his head and disrupts his chakra like one would check for Genjutsu. There’s no way that Tobirama will miss it.

Tobirama squints at him.

Sasuke breaks the stare quicker this time. “Not even my friends interrupt this much when I call myself the asshole, but if you're that attached to the title I’ll gladly share, Neko-teme.”

“You have friends?” The response is immediate and Sasuke knows with crystal certainty that Tobirama and Izuna must never engage in this sort of thing, or his face double wouldn’t get blindsided by actual clap backs.

“Hurtful,” Sasuke clutches the steamer box he pulls from his shoulder bag in mock dismay, “I’ve misplaced some of them but even I’m not crazy enough to have made them all up.”

He telegraphs the movement as he slips into one of the chairs at the tall table. There isn’t any paperwork or projects on this particular flat surface, so Sasuke figures its for social eating and similar tasks. Sasuke sets the steamer in the center of the table and lifts the lid so the scent of warm dumplings can waft out.

Sasuke had to threaten not just Izuna but Tajima, Maru, and Midori to keep this steamer full safe from the general eating pile. He doubts Tobirama is immune to the allure of Akimichi-style soup dumplings, even if Sasuke had to use two kinds of fish and more seaweed to get the layers of flavor rather than the Akimichi’s prefered mix of meats. They’re still good; not as good as Chouji’s of course, but good. He also included some of the tastier mushroom varieties, in case Tobirama didn’t want to risk anything with unseen ingredients, “I brought them, so you get to choose who eats what.”

Tobirama is wary of crossing the distance. Sasuke keeps his hands flat on the table, not molding chakra or threatening. The dumplings continue to steam.

In the end, Tobirama ends up eating six of the nine dumplings and more than his share of the mushrooms, but Sasuke doesn’t mind. The expression of triumphant glee at the reveal of “Yeah, they’re all fish filled,” almost makes Sasuke pop his Sharingan on to preserve the image. He’ll have to try to sketch it from regular memory, because Shikako will never believe him otherwise, and the teeth, the teeth are magnificently cat-like. It’s proof enough that fish will work to get his toe in the door, and that is, for some unknowable reason, what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm looking forward to Sasuke's third day of Vacation, aren't you?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to all the Discord friends for their help and encouragement, you all rock!


End file.
